Weird Dean
by Water-Nymph1970
Summary: Dean has a secret, one that leads to EXPLICIT and GRATUITOUS MATURE content! You were warned. Place mind in the gutter and sneak a peek. hermaphrodite!Dean smut NO wincest Come for the weird smut, stay for the plot!
1. Chapter 1

**Weird Dean – _chapter 1_**

The guy was big, a couple inches taller than Dean and had the biggest damn hands he'd ever seen. And the guy kept smiling at him, even after Dean took him in pool for a couple hundred.

"Not your night," Dean told him with a cocky smile.

The guy shrugged, making Dean wonder if he gave up on this mark too early. "Not yet."

Dean crooked an eyebrow at that. "Not yet?" he repeated.

"Frank," the guy said, holding out one of those monstrous paws.

Dean took it in a firm handshake. "Dean."

Frank didn't let go right away. "You play some mean pool, Dean. You do everything that well?"

Dean pulled his hand back slowly. "What are you asking?"

Frank smiled big, which matched his face and hands. Was everything on this guy big? Actually, that was an interesting question. "I'm hungry. Join me for a burger?"

Dean shrugged, taking another swig of his beer. "Who's buying?"

Frank laughed then. "Okay, fine. I'll use my last ten bucks for burgers. Happy?"

Dean cocked his head to one side. Was this guy hitting on him, or just strangely friendly? "Yeah, okay. I can eat."

Two hours, four burgers and god only knows how many beers later, Dean dropped another twenty on the table. When Frank's ten ran out, Dean started using his winnings that used to be Frank's money. "That's enough," he said, chuckling. "Dude, if I drink any more I won't be able to walk back to my motel."

Frank stood a little unsteadily himself. "No problem. I'll walk you back."

Dean snorted, attempting to shake off the offer, but Frank threw an arm around his shoulder and propelled both of them towards the door. "No, no," Frank was saying, "you're too drunk to walk by yourself. Get rolled in this neighborhood."

Dean rolled his eyes at that, but he didn't mind Frank's arm around his shoulders or the staggering weight at his side. "How long you lived around here, Frankie?" He could hear the slur in his voice. How much beer did he drink?

Frank's arm tightened around his shoulders. "Too damn long. There's no action in this stupid town, unless it's just passing through." The hand that was on his shoulder roamed down his back to grip his right buttock. Oh, he had enough beer that he didn't mind it, even liked it. Yeah, Dean hadn't been this drunk in a couple of years. It took a lot to make him reveal his secret, and they were only a hundred yards from it now.

Dean grinned suggestively at Frankie. "Like me?" he asked in his sexiest voice, the one that could seduce a librarian in the special collections area.

Frankie smiled that big damn smile, used his big damn hand to grope Dean's ass again. "Yeah. Like you."

Dean whipped out his room card, winding an arm around Frankie's waist. "Then I've got a surprise for you." He paused as the door swung open, staring at Frankie with bleary eyes. "But maybe you're not drunk enough yet. I got a fifth in the car." He pointed into the room. "Wait there, like a good boy."

Frankie stood in the doorway, waiting, while Dean retrieved the unopened bottle of Jack from the trunk. It was supposed to be for Father's Day, but that was two months ago and he still hadn't seen Dad. Screw him. No, screw Dean, hopefully tonight. With a grin, Dean returned to his motel room.

Frankie gave him a puzzled look as he shut the door. "Why do we need that?"

Dean smiled broadly. "Because most guys freak, unless they're good and drunk. So, drink up and I can promise you a night you'll never forget." He waggled his eyebrows.

Frankie shook his head. "If I drink any more, it'll be a night I'll never remember. Why would I freak?"

Dean shoved the bottle into Frankie's hands. "Drink," he ordered.

Frankie shrugged, opened the bottle. He took a long swig straight from the bottle, keeping an eye on Dean the whole time. "Now?" he asked.

Dean took the bottle back, downed a nice portion of it. At least if the guy freaked, Dean would be too drunk to really care. "I have a secret," he whispered. "Not even my brother knows."

Frankie had the look of a serious drunk, which made Dean giggle. God, he was really gone if he was giggling! And he didn't care, so yeah, really drunk.

"The suspense is killing me," Frankie said earnestly. "What is it?" His eyes were wide and round and so god-damned striking blue. Dean hadn't noticed Frankie's amazing blue eyes before.

Dean unzipped his pants. "Put your hand in there," he ordered.

Frankie grinned, sliding his hand down Dean's stomach muscles into his briefs. Dean waited, the whiskey bottle still clutched in one hand. Most of the time this ended with the guy taking off into the night, which was the other damn good reason to only sleep with girls. He felt those meaty fingers wrap around his penis, which was already coming to life. Frankie stroked it for a moment.

"Keep going," Dean said in the same tone.

Frankie looked in his eyes as the hand gently stroked lower to where his balls should be. Dean got a confused look. "Keep going," he whispered. This was where it either turned into a really awesome night, or a nightmare.

Frankie's big fingers ghosted lower, reaching further. Dean knew Frankie thought he wanted an ass job or something, but Frankie hadn't found the secret yet. Then he felt a finger slip behind his penis, into the wetness there. Frankie's eyes widened and Dean nodded encouragement. The finger, and it was big, explored. Then a second finger followed. Dean found himself rocking against those huge fingers, reveling in the sensations. Oh, he knew those bigs hands were good for something.

"You're a girl?" Frankie asked in a whisper.

Dean shook his head. "Both," he replied, holding up the whiskey. "Need some more?"

It was no surprise when the hand pulled out of his pants or when the bottle was taken from his hand. The surprise came when Frankie's mouth closed over his, the tongue attacking his lips, that big hand grabbing the back of his head. Maybe Dean wasn't drunk enough. He never expected success.

Big fingers sucked at undoing shirt buttons. Dean decided screw it and pulled hard, popping the buttons off. His vision wasn't good enough to unbutton it anyway. All he could see in any sort of clarity were those blue eyes, which kept looking at him. How weird was that?

Then he stood completely naked in front of Frankie, those big hands roaming all over him.

"Come here," Frankie said, propelling him to the bed. "I want a better look at this." Dean shot him a hard look. "You. I meant at you." He grinned real big again. "I never even heard of this."

Dean allowed himself to be manhandled, mainly because Frankie wasn't freaking out. The fact Frankie wasn't freaking out should have been freaking him out, but fortunately he had already taken his hundred proof cure-all. He laid down on the bed, spread his legs wide for inspection. Plenty of doctors had groped him in the past, with Dad looking on asking about testosterone supplements and levels. This was different, thank god.

Warm hands, not cold doctor's hands, rubbed up his thighs. His penis, his manhood, was lifted. He knew it grew from the point where a woman's clit was. Careful fingers slipped inside, massaged his female opening. He tried not to groan at the sensations, but a second finger joined the first and then the other hand massaged his penis. He heard his own groan, spread his legs wider, wanting more feeling, more sensations.

"Hang on," Frankie said in a soothing voice, "I have an idea."

Dean closed his eyes, surrendering himself to Frankie and whatever this perfect stranger wanted to do to him. Maybe he needed more whiskey, or sense.

Wet warmth enveloped his penis. Dean's head snapped up, eyes open. Frankie was going down on his manhood while giving the female part a really good fingerjob, something no one except Dean had ever bothered to do. He dropped back onto the bed, not believing his rare good luck. He actually happened onto a guy who was enjoying pleasing a hermaphrodite. Yeah, well, Dean had seen stranger, but not by much. At the moment, he didn't really care because it just felt too god-damned good. Frankie didn't just have big hands and a hot mouth, but a nice long tongue that kept rubbing the underside of his dick, which was getting harder by the moment. A second sensation deep down had him clenching his vaginal muscles. The fingers sped up, the thumb rubbed the sensitive skin around his vagina, Frankie swallowed around his dick and Dean bucked hard, arching his back. He couldn't stay still any longer, thrusting on Frankie's hand and up into his mouth. Frankie started timing his head bobs with the finger thrusts and the sensations welled up within him. Then Frankie hummed and that did him in. With a cry of primal urges, Dean thrust twice more, coming in a way he never had before, both ways at the same time. Frankie sucked him dry, his fingers slowing their frantic pace to a soothing stroke. Frankie released his penis gently and smiled at him.

"How was that?" Frankie asked. "I can't imagine." His grin broadened.

Dean nodded, panting. "Wow," he breathed.

Frankie crawled up over him, those big fingers still making soothing strokes inside him, exciting him again. "Ready?" Frankie asked.

Dean should be totally freaked at how well Frankie had adapted, but he was way too far gone now. He nodded, wondering what could possibly follow that. Frankie slipped his fingers out to undress. Damn, Dean knew he had forgotten to do something, but it was a good show. He told himself that this wasn't gay, because technically they weren't the same gender. Hell, almost nobody was his gender, certainly no one he had ever met.

Frankie worked out. He had a really nice physique and knew it. He even flexed a couple of times for Dean. "I take it from what you said earlier you don't have much to do with guys."

Dean shook his head. "Most of them freak. Nobody ever did...that." He couldn't help the sigh that escaped. Honest. Call it post-sex-insanity. Or was it pre? Because Frankie had a look in his eye like they hadn't really started anything yet.

Frankie's smile was back, the big one. "Does this work for you?" he asked, posing.

Dean chuckled. "You're a good lookin' guy," he assured Frankie. "You gonna just leave me here now?"

Frankie crawled onto the bed, over Dean. "Just figuring out how this is going to work. You up to doing me?" Before Dean could formulate an answer, he shook his head. "Kidding. This is what I'm going to do."

Dean felt something warm press up against his opening. It pressed harder, slipping inside thanks to how wet Frankie had made him with earlier activities. Oh, it was better than fingers already. Dean reached out, grabbed Frankie's ass and pulled him in tighter. Oh, yeah, that reached much deeper, much better. Frankie pumped into him, again and again, but there was no variation.

"Roll," Dean panted.

"What?" Frankie asked, slowing his thrusts.

"Hips," Dean said, shifting his hands to guide Frankie's hips, "roll."

Oh, no wonder the women he did that to groaned with pleasure. Dean guided Frankie through thrusts and rolls until he was groaning with each stroke. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better, Frankie rolled them both over, putting Dean on top. He grasped Dean's hips, thrusting up. Dean braced himself on the bed, one hand on each side of Frankie's chest. He moved slowly at first, feeling Frankie's cock glide inside him. This was a first. If he actually got a guy into bed, and it had only happened a couple of times, then it was usually frantic humping before they both passed out. Dean had never been on top before, except as a guy on a woman. Frankie's hands urged him on, to pick up the pace. He slid up and back, coming down a little harder. Oh, yeah, that was good. For a change of pace, Dean tried lifting all the way up, until he nearly lost Frankie, then he plunged back down. A moan tore from his throat. He needed to do that again. That deep feeling, sensation, welled up deep in his abdomen. His pace picked up again, much to Frankie's relief if the groans and grunts were to be believed. That was about the point Dean lost control. He remembered thinking he ought to slow down, make this last, but his body continued to pump hard and fast. Frankie's hips lifted, matching him thrust for thrust. The he felt something else. Looking down, he saw Frankie's fist around his dick, which he guessed had been hardened by all the sexual activity. He didn't slow down, just kept pumping and pumping as the feeling overtook him. He could feel the wetness leaking out of him, probably dribbling down on Frankie and the sheets, but he couldn't stop now even if Dad walked in and caught them. Dean didn't notice how hard they were bouncing the bed, didn't realize that loud banging noise was from the headboard slamming into the wall, couldn't hear the people next door pounding and shouting at them. More. He had to have more. Almost there.

Frankie's hand grasped his ass while the other hand pumped his dick, hard and fast. Almost. He was nearly there. Harder. Faster. Faster. Harder. Sweat poured in rivulets down his skin. Heaving breaths filled the room. Almost. Faster. Almost. Harder. Dean reached under Frankie, grabbed his ass. The shift in his position put Frankie's penis at a different angle.

Oh.

God.

YES!!

Dean tightened his grip on Frankie, pulled the other man up by the ass to meet his thrusts. One more time. Frankie's dick plowed into Dean, hitting that sweet spot he'd been searching for. All that sensation flowed over him, immobilizing thought. He kept moving, but not at the frantic pace. The sensations of his body had taken over. He panted, opening his eyes as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him. He noticed Frankie's face, not smiling. Frankie urged him to move some more. Dean moved the way Frankie wanted now, allowed the other man to guide him. A few more thrusts and he felt Frankie's dick grow larger inside him, thicker with each stroke. Then he understood. He pumped down hard, the sensation growing stronger. Dean did the trick with Frankie's ass again, thrusting hard and sure.

An explosion happened, inside of him. Dean stopped dead still. He breathed hard as Frankie made some really weird faces, clutching his hips and grinding into him from below. Dean moved some, helping Frankie with the grinding thing. Then he sat there as the sensation continued to pulse through him, completely in control. He could still feel Frankie inside him, but not like before. Before Frankie filled him, reaching deeper than Dean thought possible. Now it was a warm reminder of what just happened.

Frankie's startling blue eyes opened. His jet black hair was plastered down on his forehead and Dean didn't have the energy to brush it away.

"Wow," Frankie breathed.

Dean chuckled a little, smiling. He liked reactions like that. "Not...bad...huh?" he managed to say breathlessly.

Frankie ran his big hands up Dean's sides and down his arms. "How long are you in town?"

Dean tilted his head to one side, studying the man under him. "Why?"

Frankie grinned that bright, wide smile. "Because I'm going to take some time off work. This is not the last time that is happening."

Dean laughed, lifting up. He was surprised he had to move so far up to fully release Frankie. He crashed on the bed next to the man with the great eyes. "That right? Planning to stay the night? Get some hot morning sex in?"

Frankie was still smiling. A huge hand caressed his cheek. "How long?"

Dean shrugged. "Couple of days, at least. Until my dad calls with a job."

Frankie nudged Dean until he lifted his head. Frankie slipped an arm under. "Then I'm on vacation for a couple of days."

"Where are we going?" Dean asked, eyelids feeling heavy.

"Sex beach."

He felt lips pressed to his forehead, but he was way too tired and drunk to think about anything right now.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_ – so does anybody like this so far?? Or should I give it up?

Dean woke with a heavy damn weight on his chest. He tried to move, but he was pinned. He opened his eyes, but that was a mistake. Light stabbed through his pupils, causing a massive headache. Oh, god, he drank way too much last night. Then he caught sight of why he was pinned. A head full of wild dark hair was in the exact center of his chest, two massive arms holding his down.

He cleared his throat. No reaction from the man currently holding him hostage. Dean tried shifting them. Nothing. He lifted one arm, figuring if he could find some leverage he could get out. The head lifted and deep, brilliant blue eyes looked at him.

"Frankie," he said softly as the name from last night popped into his head.

The dark haired head nodded. "Morning, Dean." Then a broad smile that looked familiar appeared. "Still good on that promise of morning sex?"

Dean ran his tongue over his teeth. His mouth tasted like old beer. "I'd better brush my teeth or something first."

Frankie crawled up him, effectively pinning his body. "Oh no, you might sneak off." The broad smile had a wicked look in daylight. "I was promised morning sex."

He felt one of those big hands gliding up his thigh, headed right for his groin. Dean tensed, unsure what was keeping this guy here. Novelty?

Frankie's hand stopped for a moment, hesitating close enough he could feel it brushing his pubic hair. Then it moved up to his hip. Frankie shifted further up.

"I can go slow," he murmured, leaning close to Dean's neck. Next he felt a warm mouth on his skin. Frankie kissed and suckled a tormenting slow pace down Dean's neck to his chest. He stopped at Dean's pecks.

"Are they sensitive? Like a woman? Or more decoration, like a guy?" he asked, fingering one nipple.

"Usually nothin...," Dean broke off and hissed through his teeth as his nipple hardened under the man's touch, a brand new sensation shooting through him. "What was that?"

Frankie smiled, lowering his head to pay some attention to that nipple, shooting sparks of pleasure. Then he moved to the other, murmuring "equal treatment." Frankie resumed his torturous pace down to Dean's stomach. Here he paused, running a hand over the muscles there. "How often do you work out?" he asked. "I can't get a six pack like that."

"Most days," Dean replied evasively.

Frankie whistled through his teeth, lowering his head again. The kissing and suckling didn't stop there, it went right to his penis, which just woke up and was telling Frankie good morning. The man who chose to stay last night, with Dean, ran his talented tongue down one side and back up the other. Dean moaned.

"Want me to do it again?" Frankie asked. "Like last night?" Fingertips stroked his female opening.

Dean shook his head, though he'd really like that. "You don't have to."

Frankie's face broadened into that grin again. "Hell, I know that. I'm offering." His head tilted to the side, his brow furrowed with thought. "You know, since I'm gay, I've never eaten out a woman." He gave Dean a questioning look.

"I've, uh, never had it done to me," Dean replied, feeling nervous all over again.

"But you've done it to women?" Frankie asked. The fingertips stroked his opening, massaging the sensitive skin. Dean nodded, swallowing convulsively. Frankie moved his legs so they were bent at the knees and spread as far apart as Dean could manage. Then Frankie did what Dean never thought anyone would ever do for him. Frankie went down on him, guy on girl style.

Girls really had it going on, Dean decided as that wet hot tongue plunged into him again and again. What he really wanted to do was sit on Frankie's face and really fuck that tongue, but Frankie probably wouldn't appreciate that. Instead he wound his legs around Frankie's neck, pulling him in closer. When his breathing hitched, Dean knew he was close. Then Frankie's head shot up. Before Dean could whine about the loss of contact, that amazing mouth was around his dick, bobbing hard and fast. He thrust instantly and Frankie moved with him. Oh, he was so damned close. Another moment of...the thickness of two or three fingers plunged inside of him and he could tell how wet he was from Frankie's ministrations.

Dean writhed all around, thrusting this way and that until he thought he would lose his mind. Finally Frankie swallowed around him, pulling the orgasm from his body. As he panted and those magic fingers continued in slow, soothing strokes, Frankie talked to him.

"Jesus, I never saw anything like you before," he said slowly. "Everything I do pleases you. It's amazing."

Dean hadn't regained the power of speech yet. Sure he just orgasmed, but those fingers were feeling really good again and he heard a whine come from deep in his throat.

"Hang on," Frankie said. He stood at the foot of the bed in his naked glory, reaching under, and pulled. Dean watched, not understanding. "Last night we woke people up," he explained, yanking on the bed again. It protested being moved from the wall. "I don't want to get thrown out before we're done."

Dean nodded. Words were too much effort. He motioned for Frankie to get the hell over here. Now. Frankie jumped onto the bed, the springs squeaking their protests. "Guess we can't help a little noise," he said, pressing his body against Dean. About damn time.

The fingers returned, but just for a few moments. Soon the head of Frankie's penis dipped inside. It swirled around, dipped a little further in before pulling out, swirling around just on the outside.

Dean glared. "Do that again and I'll kick your ass."

Frankie looked him dead in the eye. "This is why I like guys." He plunged deep inside, all the way.

"I keep threatening you and you do it right?" Dean asked, lifting his legs to wrap around Frankie's waist, driving the big man in deeper.

Frankie nodded, slow easy thrusts. "I don't remember everything you taught me last night." He moved Dean's hands to his hips. "Show me again."

Dean guided him through a few rolls and thrusts until Frankie seemed to get it and he could lay back and enjoy it. "You'll be able to go longer this morning, won't you?" Dean said, mainly just to say something.

Frankie nodded, concentrating on the rhythm Dean taught him. Dean lifted his hips on the thrusts, allowing Frankie to go deeper. On one thrust Frankie was so deep Dean could feel the other man's balls tickling his ass. He laughed at the sensation, pulling Frankie down for a kiss. They both had morning after breath and Frankie had been shamelessly eating Dean out earlier, but that man needed a kiss right then.

"What was that for?" Frankie asked, still leaning over into Dean's face.

"Your balls were on my ass," he said with a grin.

Frankie smiled back, then laid down completely on Dean. He just used his lower body to thrust slowly in and out while he suckled on Dean's earlobe and the skin just below his ear on his neck. So this was what lazy sex was about. Kind of nice. Dean ran his hands over the other man's back, unable to resist kneading his ass.

"Ready to get rough?" Frankie asked, his lips on Dean's ear.

Dean shook his head. "Nah. In a minute. Just enjoying myself."

Frankie returned to his earlier duties, making Dean's neck wet, while Dean ran his hands as far as he could reach over Frankie. Frankie's muscles rippled under his touch. They were still screwing, Frankie thrusting slowly into him, but now his mind was free to wander even while his body reveled in the feelings and sensations. He felt warm and wanted, and most of all, not like some hideous freak.

Frankie's thrusts picked up a little speed, but not much. Dean continued to run his hands over Frankie's body, admiring the muscle definition. Without realizing it, he was returning Frankie's thrusts. His hands rested on Frankie's lower back, every move of Frankie's causing those strong muscles to flex under his touch. Now that he noticed himself thrusting back, harder, some of the urgency from last night returned. He thrust even harder, wanting Frankie deeper.

"Time," Dean said softly, wondering if Frankie would notice.

Frankie lifted up then, a sparkle in those amazing eyes. "Let's see if we can wake the neighbors without using the wall."

Dean grinned. He liked a challenge.

Frankie started it, going harder and deeper on the thrusts. Soon he had Dean moaning like some porn star. Then Frankie had a hand around his penis, which was starting to feel a little lively again. Poor thing hadn't had a workout like this since the doublemint twins. Now when Frankie rolled his hips, he rolled against that sensitive skin and the lower part of his penis and damned if that wasn't adding extra horniness to the morning. Now Dean felt like humping like frenzied rabbits.

He grabbed Frankie by the arms, even though his dick was clutched almost painfully tight in one of those monster fists, and flipped them. Seriously, Frankie didn't know rough. Frankie's gorgeous blue eyes went wide, until Dean slammed down on him a few times. Both Frankie's hands held on to Dean's hips, helping him slam harder and harder, driving Frankie deeper and deeper.

The trick. There was a trick he needed last night. What was it?

As Dean desperately slammed down, harder and faster, unable to start his climax, his alcohol-addled brain desperately tried to remember. With inspiration, he reached under and lifted Frankie's ass with one hand. He paused, looking Frankie in the deep blue eyes, waiting for permission this time. One of Frankie's hands shifted around, grabbed Dean's dick which had been bobbing wildly between them. He thumbed the slit gently and Dean moaned. Frankie started a slow hand job.

Slow. Frankie wanted slow now.

Still in the new position, Dean lifted up and lowered himself slowly. Ah, yes. Much better. The next time was not faster, but he managed to go down further, burying as much of Frankie in him as he could, enjoying the pressure on the right spot deep inside. As the hand job on his penis quickened, so did Dean. This was not the wild frenzy of last night, though it could be. That had been fun. This was more. He kept up his pace, speeding up only at signals from Frankie. The slip slide of Frankie inside him grew easier as he grew wetter. The wetter he was the more desperately he wanted to impale himself on Frankie, to go wild.

"Hang on," Frankie whispered. "Just a little longer."

Dean was going to lose his fucking mind at this pace. A mass of sensations filled him, starting down deep and reaching up. Even his nipples, which before today he didn't think did a damn thing, tingled. A pressure from deep in his body, deep seated need, clawed its way up. Dean tried to keep his steady pace, to match the rhythm Frankie set, but it was increasingly difficult. It welled up, threatened to overcome him. He shut his eyes against it, but that made the sensations he felt all the more intense. He brought himself down on Frankie again, felt the hard shaft press against something inside that had him shuddering.

Frankie's hand pumped his dick, hard and fast. He could move! Dean slammed himself down and again in a frenzy, the shuddering taking control until he was nothing more than a spectator in his own body. A spectator really enjoying himself, granted, but still a spectator. He brought Frankie into him as waves of pleasure drowned out all thought, all feelings, leaving nothing but these physical sensations. Frankie rolled them over again. Dean wrapped his legs around Frankie as the larger man drove deep into him, causing him to moan at the overload of pleasure. Just when he thought he couldn't stand anymore, a second wave of sensations hit him. Now each plunge of Frankie into him caused him to scream. It was the only release available now, sound.

"Holy shit." The words were dull and distant, far away. Dean ignored them in favor of the sensations of the here and now. Another plunge and another scream. His fingertips dug deep, one hand on Frankie's shoulder and the other on his hip. Oh, god, was Frankie getting bigger? Frankie was laying on top of him now, thrusting desperately like he couldn't get off. Dean grabbed the hard ass, forcing Frankie to plunge faster and deeper. He dug his heels into the backs of Frankie's knees, yanked him inside again. That internal explosion happened again, the one Dean thought he'd dreamed. His vagina pulsed and his dick throbbed, trapped between him and Frankie. He couldn't move to take care of it because the pulsing was too intense. As it abated, Frankie pulled his limp dick out.

"Oh, shit, Dean. Sorry. I'll take care of that." Frankie panted out the words.

Dean didn't know what Frankie was sorry for or how he planned to take care of it. He thought he didn't care until a huge hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. It massaged, gently at first. Dean bucked some into the grip. The pace picked up and Dean couldn't help bucking again.

"Relax," the voice told him again. Dean forced himself to just lay back, allow all those sensations to have their way with him. Deep inside he still pulsed and he wondered if all women had orgasms like this, it seemed to just go on and on. The warm hand slickered his dick up with something, he didn't look to see. Then it was able to slip-slide easily. His breathing became short again. It was close, but he didn't think just a hand job would do it, he wanted to thrust. He tried doing it from his position on the bed, but it just got bigger and started to hurt.

"Been doing it with girls too much," Frankie said, pulling him to a stand. Frankie was still breathing hard as he asked, "Want my mouth or my hand?"

The hand was already there. Standing, Dean could thrust into it again and again. Now he was closer. Frankie captured him in a heady kiss, one that sent the world spinning and allowed him to ignore how either of them tasted. He held his lover's head with both hands to kiss, while thrusting into a hand nearly big enough to envelope him completely. When he came he didn't break the kiss. Dean deepened it, wanting to show Frankie how much he appreciated this, how much it meant to him.

When they broke apart, Frankie rested both hands on his shoulders. "I expect you to give me your number. Or I'll kick _your_ ass."

--

The fact he was kicked out of his motel room didn't come as a shock. It wasn't like it was the first time, though Frankie seemed entirely too pleased by it.

"Doesn't anything bother you?" Dean asked as he started up the Impala, finding this trait in Frankie a little annoying.

"Life's too short to sweat the small stuff," Frankie replied, sitting in the passenger seat. Sam's seat. The kid had been away at college for over four months, at some point Dean had to stop thinking of it as Sam's spot. "I learned that after the heart attack."

Dean put his foot on the brake. "What? Dude, you can't be any older than me."

Frankie grinned that broad, bright grin. "Twenty-five. I had it when I was twenty-two. Doctors said it was a combination of being overweight, eating all the wrong foods and stress. Plus, I have a family history."

"For heart attacks?" Dean asked, easing his car out of the parking space. "Well, there's worse family histories."

"You mean cancer? Yeah, I quit smoking too."

Dean cut his eyes to the side, but Frankie didn't look like he was joking. "So where am I going?"

Frankie directed him to a house in a low rent neighborhood, the only one where the front bushes were all alive. It wasn't a mansion, but it was more than Dean ever had.

"Nice. Yours?" he asked, peering through the windshield.

"Used to be my parents' rental property. After the heart attack, I decided to straighten out my life, you know?" Dean nodded, listening intently. "I changed everything, dropped out of school because it stressed me out too much, started working out, got a job. My parents were so happy that I wanted to live, they signed the house over to me. I have a couple of roommates, because I rent cheap."

"Roommates?" he asked, glancing over. "That could be a problem."

Frankie grinned. "They work. Steve's day off is Monday and Randy's is Wednesday. I took a few days off. We'll just have to restrict certain activities to the daytime."

Dean laughed, pulling out his keys. "That's a switch. Usually I'm trying to restrict certain activities to nights." He gave Frankie a grin of his own. "Sure you'll be able to keep your hands off me that long?"

Frankie shook his head as he opened the door. "No promises. Come on. After we get you settled, maybe I can show you some of the sights."

"Sights?" Dean stood up out of the car. He snagged his duffel from the backseat. "There are sights in this burg?"

Frankie chuckled as he threw open the front door. "Not exactly. But there are some decent places to eat and we have a great park with a duck pond."

Dean checked out the house as he followed Frankie through to the master bedroom. Nothing looked new, all used but comfortable. He tossed his bag in the corner of Frankie's room.

"You want to take me to a pond." Dean crooked an eyebrow at the big guy standing across from him.

"Not really." The big grin was back. "But we need to do something other than just sex. Don't we?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're planning on showing me off to your friends, aren't you? Not that I blame you," he said, spinning in place, "but I am leaving in a couple of days."

"Sure, for work." Frankie's startling blue eyes pierced through him. He held up a cell phone. "But I have your number, and it works. Any time you're in the state, I expect to know about it."

Dean chuckled. "That right? Think it's that easy?"

Frankie crowded him against the wall. "Better be."

Dean rolled his eyes, feeling the pressure of Frankie pinning him to the wall. "This is why I don't usually date guys."

Frankie had that mischievous smile again. "I don't mind being the only one."

"You mean the only guy?" Dean shrugged, noticing Frankie's shirt ride up with his movements. "I can almost promise you that."

"Almost?" There was a growl in his voice as he leaned in closer. "I'm going to get that promise before I let you leave."

"Let?" Dean's mind raced for a clean way of extricating himself from the wall without hurting Frankie. Much. Then warm breath tickled his cheek. He leaned into it, into the warm lips caressing his skin. Oh, he could really get used to this. "Yes, dear," he mumbled.

Frankie laughed, his voice gentle vibrations through the skin. "That's better," he said, returning to paying Dean some attention.

"You keep this up, nobody is going to see you until I leave town," Dean moaned.

"If you let me show you off," Frankie said, pulling back, "I'll do anything you want when we get back."

That sounded like an awfully good bargain. "What about your roommates?"

Frankie shrugged. "They sleep too much anyway."

Dean grinned. "Not many people will see us at this time of day."

"Sure they will," Frankie said, pulling him off the wall. "It's Saturday."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3** – _Ah, so you've joined me in the gutter yet again. You know, I could throw some plot in among all this at some point. Well, maybe if I get desperate._

Dean sat across from Frankie in a small booth in a crowded restaurant. Every-freaking-body here seemed to know Frankie. Now he got why Frankie insisted on coming here. A guy paused by their table to eye Dean before walking off without saying anything. The second time it happened, Dean got Frankie's attention.

"What was that?" he asked, pointing out the guy.

Frankie made a face. "Oh, that's Jake. We dated for a few months." He shrugged. "Control freak. Life's too short for that shit."

"Want me to kick his ass for you?" Dean offered.

Frankie laughed. "That isn't why I brought you here. Just sit there, look gorgeous and with me. I'll be the talk of the town for months."

Dean chuckled at that. Frankie stroked his ego something fierce, along with other things. "Yeah, whatever."

Lunch lasted pretty damn close to forever, but Dean didn't have any place to be. He waited patiently, making small talk with some of Frankie's friends who came by out of curiosity. It was pretty obvious, too. Apparently Frankie had been out of circulation for a while. From the tidbits he gathered from the friends, Frankie hadn't dated anyone since the control freak. That was kind of concerning. Frankie couldn't expect an actual relationship here. He already tried that with Cassie, with horrific results. Dean wasn't ready to take that plunge again. Frankie already was so open-minded about his... gender... Dean couldn't risk driving him off with hunting. That topic could wait – maybe forever. Then again, maybe it wasn't the hunting that had Cassie freaked, even though she said she didn't mind his gender.

They didn't go to the duck pond. Water. Birds. Big deal. Dean did talk Frankie into renting some of his favorite movies, and it turned out they had similar tastes. That or Frankie was lying in order to make him feel better. Dean would take what he could get.

It was weird. Everyone in this town really thought he was gay and it wasn't a problem, maybe because he was with Frankie. The guy was unbelievably popular. The whole town knew him by first name. Dean even let Frankie grope his ass as they walked down the sidewalk, and he wasn't embarrassed. A girl caught them, laughed as she told Frankie to get a room.

"That's where we're headed, darlin'," Dean assured her with a wink. Her cheeks flushed bright red and she hurried off.

Frankie checked his watch. "If my calculations are correct, we have four hours before one of my roommates gets off work. The other one is probably out partying already and won't be home for hours, or Monday if his girlfriend is off this weekend too."

"Why, are you implying something?" Dean asked, starting the car.

Frankie shook his head. "If that sounded like just an implication, I was doing it wrong."

One of Frankie's big hands rubbed at the denim between his legs and warm, wet lips pressed against his jaw near the ear. Oh yeah.

"Keep that up and we won't make it to the house," Dean threatened as he pulled on to the street. "Not to mention the traffic hazard we'd make."

Frankie moved away, but the hand didn't. It stroked the inside of his thigh, stopping occasionally to squeeze gently. Dean growled, eyes trying to pick out some place that might be secluded.

"We're nearly there," Frankie said. "Ever had a hand job while you're driving?"

Dean shrugged. "Sure. Hasn't everyone?"

"Wrong hand job," Frankie said.

Dean swallowed hard as Frankie undid the snap on his jeans. The zipper came down, releasing some of the constraint on his now engorged cock. Frankie's hand, large and yet soft, probably never had a day of manual labor in his life, reached in. He grasped Dean's penis, but only briefly, headed down below. Dean shifted in the seat to give Frankie more room, unable to believe he was allowing this to happen. He had to stop at a red light, which gave Frankie time to slip two fingers inside.

"You're wet," Frankie said, barely audible over the motor. "That's good, right? Means you want me?"

Dean nodded, his breathing changing with the strokes of Frankie's fingertips. When the light turned green, he was trying not to whine.

"You know what I really like?" Frankie asked. He was right next to Dean, their thighs pressed together. Dean shook his head, hoping it was something good. "I like knowing this secret," the fingers thrust deeper, Dean's breathing hitched, "and that no one else does. I like that you're wet for me. And I like that you don't want to control me by forcing me to be on the bottom."

Dean shook his head, those fingers doing things he wanted to finish soon. Where was that damn house? "I don't even do that with chicks, dude."

The fingers stilled for a moment. Dean heard a whine then, but he'd deny it came from him. "That's the only thing I don't like," Frankie said. Then he chuckled. "Well, nobody can be perfect."

The fingers resumed their teasing strokes, causing him to become wetter by the moment. Oh, thank god, there was the house. Dean tore into the driveway, slammed the big car into park. Instead of pulling out, Frankie's fingers sped up their strokes and thrusts. Dean threw his head back, thrusting at the fingers. Frankie chuckled. The other big hand turned his face toward Frankie, hot and heavy kisses pressing down on his face, hungrily eating every square inch of skin available. Then Frankie broke away, diving down at Dean's lap. In the car?

Dean glanced around, worried one of the neighbors might catch them. Then Frankie's mouth was around his penis, which was so engorged now that it ached. That hot mouth and very talented tongue felt so damned good. Dean closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the seat. He ran one hand along Frankie's back until he could bury his fingers in his lover's hair.

He panted harder the closer he was, his fingers tightening in Frankie's hair. His eyelids were squeezed so tight he literally saw starbursts. "Oh...oh...OH!" Again Frankie made him, literally forced him, to orgasm both ways at once. How the hell did he do that? And why? Dean had yet to repay Frankie for all of his undue attentions.

Frankie gently tucked him back in, lips pressed against his throat. "Tell me," Frankie murmured. "When you're with a woman, what's one of the kinkier things you've done?"

Dean's breathing was still heavy. He opened his eyes, Frankie's startling blue eyes focused on him like he was the only thing in the world. "Wall?"

"Wall?" Frankie's head tilted curiously to one side. "What do you mean?"

"I've taken a woman up against the wall," he said, catching his breath.

Frankie's eyes lit up. "I'm game. Come on."

He was out of the car and halfway up the walk before Dean realized what Frankie meant. Dean had to run to catch up with Frankie at the front door, his breathing still heavier than normal. "You're, uh, not serious?"

Frankie grabbed him by the collar, yanking him indoors. Dean kicked off his boots as Frankie pinned him with ferocious kisses up against the entryway wall. His pants were already undone, so Frankie had an easy time shoving them down far enough for Dean to step out. Dean fumbled with Frankie's belt, unaccustomed to dealing with belts and jeans, more at home with bras and garters. After what felt like laborious hours of fumbling, with Frankie attacking his neck the whole time and being just a big-ass distraction in general, Dean managed to open Frankie's pants and push them down.

"Now what?" Frankie asked, breath warm and moist in his ear.

"Pick me up," Dean said. "I need my legs around your waist."

Frankie lifted him so easily Dean was embarrassed. He needed to bulk up more, maybe. With soft words, Dean talked Frankie through sex against the wall. Frankie was a quick study, though. Then Frankie put his own twist on it, leaning back to expose Dean's still limp penis. One hand on Dean's ass, Frankie used the other hand to gather it up and squeeze gently. As gentle up and down motions started, Frankie leaned in again to attack his neck. Dean didn't know how long they were like that, too enveloped in all of the physical sensations assaulting every one of his senses right now. Frankie's heady smell, the feeling of Frankie's mouth on his neck, hand on his cock, and the thick shaft in his vagina, the sight of the sweat rolling off Frankie's temples, the sounds Frankie made as they had sex against the wall, the taste of his mouth when he paused long enough to kiss Dean. It was too much, overloading his brain, reducing him to grunts, groans and moans. Dean tried to return the favors this time, kissing back fervently, nibbling Frankie's earlobe when he could, clenching his vaginal muscles which always caused Frankie to moan. He felt Frankie pulse inside him, growing bigger. Frankie's hand left his penis to brace against the wall. It wouldn't be long now. Dean bore down hard, using his back on the wall to meet Frankie's thrusts. Frankie moaned louder, those weird expressions crossing his face again like this morning. Panting hard, Dean squeezed tight with his legs until Frankie's body, shaft buried deep within him, shuddered. The shuddering pulse did it and Dean gasped as his own orgasm took over. He moaned loud, throwing his head back, colliding with the wall.

Frankie's forehead pressed against Dean's shoulder as he panted heavily. Dean's body shook again with the throes of their passion. Frankie waited until he went still before lowering him from the wall. Dean stood on weak legs, leaning back against the wall. Frankie stroked his cheek and smiled.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Dean couldn't voice his thanks, the depth of his feelings. He leaned into the waiting embrace, hoping his unvoiced emotions would somehow flow through his skin into Frankie.

"Come on," Frankie said, leading him by the hand to the bedroom. They passed the bed, headed straight for the bathroom. Frankie turned on the shower. His pants were hanging loosely on his hips, his spent member hanging limply. He pushed his pants off then pulled his shirt off to toss on the floor. Dean copied Frankie, stripping what was left on his body. Showers could be fun, he knew. Frankie tested the water before stepping in. He held out a hand for Dean. Dean followed, welcoming the warm spray.

Soap and the human body was slick, slippery and damned erotic. Frankie was ripped. Dean's fingertips traced the edges of his muscles, enjoying himself. It wasn't often he got to know a guy this well, one of the drawbacks to living strictly as a guy, not that Dean could do the other. It was nice not to have to pretend, not to worry about after the lights came back on. There were women he had been sure wouldn't understand, so Dean always slipped out in the middle of the night. With a few he thought would at least be kinky enough to go with it he had stayed. Cassie seemed to be understanding, but she also grabbed the first 'problem' she had with him, blew it all out of proportion, and threw him out. One, Lisa, he had spent an amazing week with. Maybe Frankie would be like that, though this guy sounded like he wanted more than just one week. Well, he'd have to see, but at the moment Dean was making plans on passing back by whenever he could.

"I'm thinking about throwing a party tonight," Frankie said as he shut off the water.

"Just to show me off?" Dean asked with a wink.

"Better believe it," Frankie replied seriously. "Folks around here think I'm in a slump." He ran a hand down Dean's wet back, resting it on his ass. "I'd kind of like them to take a look at my current batting average."

Yeah, he could seriously get used to this kind of attention. Dad wouldn't approve, but he wasn't here, so who cared?

* * *

Dean sat on the couch sipping beer and watching some game while Frankie called a few dozen people on the phone. There would be some serious partying going on tonight. Finally Frankie crashed on the sofa next to him.

"It's all set. In a couple of hours, we'll need to do some party shopping, but everybody is coming," he said, snagging one of Dean's unopened beers from the coffee table.

"Who's everybody?" Dean asked.

Frankie shrugged. "Everybody. All my friends."

Dean glanced over, a little unnerved by all this. "Uh, okay." He shrugged. If things got too weird, Dean supposed he could just slip outside, take off. Maybe he would park his car down the street for a cleaner get-away.

He felt a warm hand on his neck, fingers running up over his head and back. "Yeah?"

Frankie let one of those huge grins loose. "We do have a couple of hours."

Dean chuckled. "Dude, you're worse than one of those nympho chicks."

"Come on," Frankie said, setting his beer back down. He leaned over, pressing his body against Dean's. "Surely there's something you've done with a woman you've always wanted to experience. Right? Tell me."

"You know," Dean said, voice full of promise, "you've done nothing but pay attention to me so far. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah," Frankie said, eyes lighting up. "Strip."

"Huh?" Dean stared back.

Frankie's widest grin to date spread. "Strip for me. I wanna watch you take it all off."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I suppose you want music, too."

"Any kind you like," Frankie promised.

Dean looked around for a music system. "Can you play cassettes?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Frankie replied.

"Back in a minute." Dean bolted out the door. He was surprised by how much he was enjoying it here. It wasn't the first time he spent several days with one person, taking basically a sex vacation, but it was the first time with a guy. New experience and he was enjoying himself. Frankie clearly had a seriously kinky side to him. Dean could exploit that. He snagged the tape he wanted before heading back inside.

"Hello!" A woman's voice called out. Dean spun around. An older woman with her hair up in rollers waved at him from next door. Dean glanced around to see if she was trying to get someone's attention. "Hello young man!" she shouted again.

Dean took a hesitant step forward. "Yes, ma'am?"

She beamed at him. "Are you one of Frank's friends?" she asked, motioning to the house.

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied, shifting one foot uneasily. "Just staying over for a couple of days."

She winked at him. "Good for him. You're cute."

Dean watched in amazement as the woman headed back into her house. "I must be in the freaking twilight zone," he mumbled as he headed back inside.

"Get it?" Frankie asked. Dean noticed that the couch had been pushed back to make more floor space and that the stereo system was on.

"You really want to embarrass me, don't you?" he demanded, handing over the tape.

Frankie chuckled. "Specific song you want?" he asked, sounding pretty excited.

Dean motioned to the stereo. "Just pop it in, it's ready to go."

Dean took a deep breath as the song cued up and waited for the opening cords. It started soft and he swayed gently to the music. When the heavy metal sounds crashed through the gentle lead-in, Dean whipped his shirt off, flinging it at Frankie. Frankie had this surprised but delighted expression. He hadn't bothered putting his boots back on yet, so the jeans came off easily. Dean whipped them in a wide arc over his head before allowing them to smash against the far wall. He waited until half the song was over before easing his underwear down. Frankie was practically salivating at this point.

Dean hadn't realized that this little quirk of Frankie's had some affect on him too, but his penis sprang up the instant it was released. He kicked off the underwear, allowing it to land someplace in the corner. Dean moved closer to Frankie, straddling his legs. "How about a lap dance?" he asked suggestively.

Frankie swallowed hard, nodding energetically. Dean slipped further across Frankie's lap. He moved up and down with the music, his dick sometimes in Frankie's face and sometimes low rubbing against his belly. Honestly, Dean didn't see how Frankie maintained this level of control. If their positions had been reversed, he would have tackled Frankie and taken that man on the floor half a song back. Then again, judging by the slack expression on Frankie's face, maybe he wasn't completely in control.

Dean slid back down, sitting lightly on Frankie's lap. He undid the snap and zipper on Frankie's jeans. Standing up slightly, Dean pulled at the denim until Frankie moved, allowing him to pull the fabric down. Yeah, Frankie was really excited. Dean had the evidence now. Hard evidence. He straddled Frankie again, this time positioning himself. Frankie looked up as Dean slid down, taking Frankie into him slowly. He felt Frankie filling him up until he sat fully on Frankie's lap.

"This what you had in mind, darlin'?" he asked in the sexy voice he practiced on waitresses, with lots of success.

Frankie made a grunt that could be taken for 'yes.' Dean chuckled, started moving up and down slowly. Frankie bucked underneath him, wanting more action. Dean shook his head, continuing to set the pace.

"You made me go slow this morning," he said with a wicked grin, "my turn."

Frankie groaned, throwing his head back. Those big hands ran up his thighs to his waist, gripping him and urging him to move. Dean refused to go faster, moving at a maddening slow pace. Sitting up sex was different, and it felt good. He liked that almost pained expression on Frankie's face because he wouldn't speed up. His hands moved around to grab Dean's ass. Yeah, that was nice, kind of erotic, but not good enough.

"Dude, you made me dance. Gonna have to do better than that," he told Frankie, intentionally moving even slower.

Frankie groaned with disappointment, but Dean found that he liked going slow. It was like teasing himself. Going at this pace, he could feel the ridge of the head of Frankie's penis as it slid slowly inside him. He swallowed hard, lifting up just as slowly, experimenting with how much he could feel.

"Wow," he breathed. "That's amazing."

"What?" Frankie asked, hands sliding over his skin again as Dean lowered himself slowly.

When Frankie was fully seated inside him he stopped, meeting Frankie's eyes. "I can feel all that," he said.

"Inside?" Frankie asked. Dean nodded. "So I'm big enough?"

Dean chuckled. "Oh, yeah."

Frankie leaned forward, attacking his neck again. Dean pushed back, forcing Frankie back against the couch. What was that? Curious, Dean leaned back again, pulling Frankie with him, then the other way. Yeah, the penis deep inside didn't seem to move that much, but god it felt good. Locked together like that, they rocked back and forth, back and forth, until Dean was panting. He couldn't control himself again and found that he didn't care. He rocked faster, pulling and pushing them farther. Faster. Frankie's breathing was heavy and hot against his neck as Dean rocked them faster and faster.

That deep feeling, the one Frankie seemed to pull from him so easily, welled up again. Everything he could feel inside pulsed with energy. He dropped his head, still rocking them together, pressing his forehead against Frankie's shoulder. Still the feeling built, the sensations threatened to carry him away. When the pulsing started, Frankie moaned and moved them. Dean found himself on his back, legs still wrapped around Frankie's waist, while the larger man thrust deeply inside. Dean gasped and Frankie chuckled.

"Let's see if I can make you scream again," he said as he pulled out. He thrust again and Dean heard a moan. He really hoped that was Frankie. A few more thrusts and he didn't care who made all that racket as long as Frankie didn't stop. Those freaking hip rolls were driving him crazy, making his insides pulse until he thought he'd lose his mind. Then Frankie sped up, pounding erratically. Finally he felt Frankie climax, his member pulsing deep within.

Frankie's weight was heavy on him. Dean ran his fingers over Frankie's bare, sweaty back. "Looks like we need another shower," he said, chuckling.

Frankie blew out a long breath. His head pressed into Dean's neck, nuzzling him. Dean heard something, but it didn't seem as important as Frankie nuzzling his neck or the warm body pressing down on him. There was a sharp gasp and Frankie's head spun in the other direction. A woman stood just inside the den, front door still open, one hand over her mouth.

"Shit," Frankie growled. Dean chuckled from his spot, pinned to the couch.

The woman looked away. "I, uh, came to help with the party. I'll be outside." She scurried out, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Girlfriend?" Dean teased. "Dude, you're in so much trouble."

Frankie pushed up, his lower body still keeping Dean pinned. "My sister. And yeah, I am."

He leaned down to capture Dean in one of those heady kisses that had him forgetting about everything outside of a two foot radius of their bodies. Then Frankie broke away, lifted off, and pulled his limp cock out.

"I want to do that again before I leave," Dean said, one hand grasping Frankie's ass.

Frankie grinned, leaned back down briefly to kiss and lightly bite at Dean's neck. "Anything you say," he murmured against Dean's skin.

Frankie stood, gathering his clothes. As he pulled his pants back on, he gave Dean an intense look. "Can you do a favor for me? It's probably a really big one for you."

Dean crooked an eyebrow at him. Frankie finally asks for something for himself. "What is it?"

Frankie glanced back at the front door, pulling on his shirt. "Well," he swallowed hard, turning back to face Dean, still naked on the couch. "Can you pretend to just be with me? I mean, you know, don't seriously flirt with anyone at the party?"

"You mean don't be a slut and embarrass you in front of everyone you know?" Dean said lightly. "Yeah, I can do that. That it?"

Pink spots appeared high on Frankie's cheeks. "Well, it would be nice if I could, uh..."

Dean gave him a wide grin. "Pinch my ass?" He shrugged, standing to face his new lover. "Dude, for that kind of sex, I'll tell everyone you're some kind of sex god and that nobody else could come close."

"Uh, don't overdo it," Frankie warned. "And can you get dressed before my sister comes back inside?"

Dean shrugged, started gathering his clothes. He couldn't find his underwear, so he headed back to Frankie's room for another pair. When he came out, he found Frankie sitting on the couch talking with a woman who was probably a few years older than Frankie.

"Hi," he said, sitting in an easy chair next to the couch.

"Lisa, this is Dean," Frankie introduced them.

Dean grinned and winked at her as he shook her hand. "I think we already met."

Her whole face flushed red. "Oh, I, uh..." She turned to shake a finger at Frankie. "Frank, you should lock your door!"

"Sorry," he said, though he didn't really sound it.

"I'm going to grab a beer. Lisa?" Dean asked, pushing up to a stand. She shook her head. "Frankie?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

Dean went to the kitchen. The house was quiet enough he could still hear their conversation.

"Did he call you Frankie?" Lisa demanded.

Dean snagged two beers out of the fridge.

"Yeah. So?" Frankie said.

"You don't let anyone call you that," Lisa snapped. "Why are you letting him?"

Frankie replied, "Are you kidding? Did you get a good look at him?"

Dean paused before heading out of the kitchen. This was getting good.

"Yeah, I saw him. So what?"

"So what?" Frankie asked. "Seriously? He's gorgeous. I'd let him call me Betty if he wanted."

"Frank, don't be a doormat," Lisa said in a commanding older sister voice. Dean recognized the pattern. "You don't want another Jake."

"He's not like that, Lisa. I swear," Frankie said.

"How would you know?" she demanded. "You just met."

Dean cleared his throat before entering the den. He handed Frankie the beer. Still standing, he addressed Lisa again. "Sure I can't get you anything? I think I spotted some soda in there."

"No thank you," she said stiffly.

Dean shrugged, retaking his seat in the easy chair. "So do you always come over to help with Frankie's parties?" he asked, popping the cap off his beer bottle.

She gave him a haughty look. "Yes."

Dean nodded. "That's cool. Wish my little brother would invite me to some of his parties. I hear he has some pretty good ones at Stanford."

"Stanford?" she asked.

Dean took a long swig of his beer. "He's the smart one in the family. Got a full ride. Real pretty girlfriend too." He gave Lisa a wink. "Not in your class, of course, but close."

She rolled her eyes. "And why doesn't he invite you?"

Dean downed about half his beer, but they were still waiting for an answer. "Dunno," he finally said. "Sammy and Dad had a huge fight when he left. The last I heard from my brother was him shouting a few profanities at Dad." Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Guess he doesn't want me around." He tried to make it sound like it didn't bother him, even though it did. A lot. And why the hell was he sitting here telling all this crap to perfect strangers.

"So what's the age difference?" he asked. "Between you two?"

Lisa relaxed a little then, telling him about her and Frankie as kids. Dean tagged along on the store run, making sure to pick up some of his favorite party foods. He even paid for as much of the food as Frankie would let him. That seemed to appease Lisa, too.

When they got back to the house, one of the roommates was there. He helped carry in the groceries, really excited to see Lisa.

"Does this mean we're partying tonight?" he asked.

Dean nudged Frankie. He had no idea who this guy was.

"Oh, uh, Steve? Meet Dean. Dean, this is one of my roommates, Steve."

Dean shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, Steve."

"Dean, huh?" Steve's eyes darted between him and Frankie. "You here for the party?" he asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nope, just for him." He jerked his head in Frankie's direction. "The party was his idea."

"And he has to stay," Frankie called out as he disappeared into the kitchen, "because he got kicked out of his motel."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Which was your fault," he shouted back.

Steve and Lisa both turned to face him. "How did Frank get you kicked out of your motel?" Lisa asked.

Dean just smiled. "I'll go see if Frankie needs any help in there." He winked at them suggestively as he left the room.

"Don't need any help, do you?" he asked, diving for the fridge and another beer. Dean let out a deep breath as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Nah," Frankie said. "You're my guest." He leaned over to give Dean a kiss on the cheek, near his ear. "Special guest." He worked down under the jaw, heading down Dean's neck.

"Keep it up," Dean rumbled, "and they're going to find out how we got kicked out of that motel."

Frankie's chuckle warmed his skin. He pulled away slowly. "Not with my sister in the house."

Dean smiled at him. "Why not? She's already seen my best side." He waggled his eyebrows at Frankie.

Frankie laughed. "You're a nut, you know that?"

Dean leaned back against the counter. "I've been called worse."

Frankie crowded close, pressing Dean right into the counter. "Not around here," he said softly. Those big hands were on his shoulders and the warm mouth on his. Dean closed his eyes, unable to believe he was actually allowing himself to be manhandled like this, or how much he liked it. He tried to set his beer down, but he wasn't sure if it made it. All of his senses were overloaded with pure Frankie, he was all Dean could see or hear or feel.

"I have a pretty good idea how they got kicked out!" Steve's voice was an irritating buzz just on the edge of Dean's consciousness.

Frankie broke away with a sigh. "Roommates can be a pain," he admitted.

Dean chuckled again. "Guess it's a good thing we already took advantage of all that time before anyone showed up, huh?"

One of Frankie's big hands rubbed up his side, under his shirt. "Guess so. I'm regretting the party already, though."

Dean gave Frankie his best grin. "You remember that for next time," he said with a wink.

"Next time?" Frankie smiled. "You're planning on coming back." That talented mouth was on his neck again and Dean let himself go with it. Why would he want to fight this anyway?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - **_Those of you who have reviewed have been great!! Okay, my fav 'explicit' scene is in this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!! Still contemplating adding a plot at some point._

It felt like the whole frigging town was crammed into Frankie's house. Dean couldn't breathe without bumping into someone. Girls he didn't know flirted with him, as well as a couple of guys. If someone started following him around the house, Dean made a point of finding Frankie and landing a kiss on the mouth or at least a highly suggestive ass-grab. The girl or guy always backed off afterwards, whether it was because Frankie was the host or just so damned popular Dean didn't know or care, as long as he was in the clear. He'd been serious about the sex-god thing. There was no way he was screwing up this visit, not with the kind of sex he was getting. Hell, if Frankie had demanded exclusive rights while they were on the couch earlier, Dean would have shouted 'hell yes' and meant it.

Now he scanned the crowd for Frankie. It had been about twenty minutes since he'd spotted Frankie and Dean was wondering just how long this party was going to last. He'd been planning on at least a little more sex before tomorrow. This was his sex vacation after all.

He felt warmth press against his side. Glancing down Dean saw a gorgeous girl, probably just turned twenty-one, looking up at him. Her mouth moved, but he couldn't make out what she said over the pounding music.

"What?" He leaned closer to hear her better.

"I said," she shouted into his ear as he felt a hand grope his ass, "want to get out of here?"

Dean shook his head, turning to talk directly into her ear. "Can't. I'm staying here."

"Friend of Steve's?" she asked.

Dean grinned as he shook his head again. "Frank," he shouted. "Know where he is?"

The hand on his ass dropped away. "You Dean?" she shouted. He nodded at her. She took a step back and looked him up and down until he felt like a side of beef. "Kitchen," she hollered, motioning with one hand.

Dean nodded his thanks before pressing through the crowd toward the kitchen. In the cramped room he found Frankie and about five people talking and laughing. Frankie's brilliant blue eyes locked with Dean's instantly, inviting him in. Dean leaned against the counter where he could watch Frankie, trying to stand out of the way of their conversation.

"I heard you just met him," a woman declared in a voice which betrayed the fact she had been drinking excessively. "Why would you throw a meet-him party if you just met?"

"Why not?" a man demanded. The guy was pretty average, with curly blond hair and murky-colored eyes. He gave Dean a broad grin before adding, "You don't meet somebody that gorgeous everyday. Hey, if you got it, flaunt it."

Frankie responded with a sharp elbow to the man's ribs. The guy chuckled as he gave Frankie a half-hearted slug to the shoulder.

"What's wrong with you two?" the drunk woman demanded.

"Jamie, I think it's time to go home," another man declared. "Let's go, honey."

"No, no, no," Jamie protested as the man guided her out. "I'm having fun, damn it! Why do you always want to leave when I'm having fun?" Her voice was drowned out by the louder party sounds in the main room as they left.

Frankie shook his head at the kitchen door. "Don't know how he puts up with her."

"Must be good in bed," Dean suggested with a wink.

"Speaking of," the man who called Dean gorgeous said, "I'm Ben. Nice to meet you." He held out a hand.

Dean chuckled as he shook it. "Nice segue," he said. "Dean. But I doubt you can top the sex god over there." He nodded towards Frankie whose face was already red. Frankie squeezed his eyes closed, whole body tense as if waiting for somebody to hit him.

"Really?" A woman who hadn't spoken since Dean came in asked. "Frank? But I thought Jake said..." her voice dropped off abruptly.

Dean split his attention between her and Frankie as Frankie's face deepened in hue, though Dean would swear it was more in anger than embarrassment now. "Then Jake's a moron," he stated flatly. "Say, would you folks mind if I had a couple of minutes to talk to Frankie?"

The woman's eyes widened and Ben's jaw dropped. "Did he say Frankie?" Ben demanded.

The woman grabbed Ben by the arm. "Come on, let's give them a little privacy."

Frankie stared daggers into the woman's back as she dragged Ben away. Dean sidled up close, relieved to be alone with Frankie even it would only be for a moment. He noticed Frankie was still glaring at the closed door. Dean ran the last minute of conversation over in his head.

"She's not supposed to be talking to the moron, huh?" he asked softly as he pressed his body lightly against Frankie's side.

Frankie shook his head but did not speak. Dean had seen this before in his dad and Sam, too angry to form words. However Frankie had not shoved him away, even as he pressed his body closer. He ran a hand up Frankie's back without a negative reaction. Okay, so it was no reaction, but that was better than anything negative. Dean trailed soft kisses up Frankie's neck to his jaw, then started back down. When he reached the collarbone, he pushed Frankie's shirt out of the way and sucked deep and hard. He felt the rigidness fall away slowly. Emboldened by his success, Dean worked his way back up the larger man's neck and this time suckled around his jaw until he was within reach of Frankie's mouth.

His intention had been to attack Frankie's mouth until the guy forgot all about the last jackass he dated, but Frankie beat him to it. Next thing Dean knew, the kitchen counter was biting into his lower back and he couldn't take a breath. He kissed back as savagely as Frankie kissed him, a fistful of hair in one hand while the other grasped Frankie by the ass. Breaking away to breathe, Dean leaned his head back far enough to look Frankie in the face. Those amazing eyes shone with lust and want.

"Here?" he gasped. "Now?"

Speaking shattered their illusion of being alone, the pounding music and blended voices from the rest of the house invaded their space.

"Better not," Frankie panted.

Dean gave him a wicked smile. "Bathroom or do you want to sneak out to that pond?"

Frankie's eyes lit up again. "Outside? For real?"

"If you think we can get out of here," Dean said as he lifted his hips, pressing his ready and waiting member against Frankie.

"Oh, hell, yeah," Frankie said, glancing at a door on the other side of the small breakfast area. Dean hadn't noticed it before, usually too distracted whenever Frankie was around. Taken by the hand, Dean allowed himself to be lead through the door into the backyard. A few people were out here, small orange glows from the ends of their cigarettes betraying their locations. Someone called out to Frankie, but they ignored it in their rush for the gate. Frankie pulled him through before pinning Dean against the wood fence for another kiss.

"You sure?" he asked in a voice heavy with promise.

Dean gave a short growl as he leaned into Frankie. "Here and now, if you want. I don't care who finds us."

Frankie laughed as he pulled Dean along by the hand again. "Oh no, not with my sister here."

"Are you sure she's still here?" Dean asked. His ears rang with the relative silence outside the house.

"Yeah, she's a party animal. Drops the kids with her in-laws when I have a party and usually sleeps over to help me clean up the next day." They were jogging towards the park now.

Dean kept up with the faster pace easily. "Nice," he said. "You must be a pretty good brother to her."

"I try." They broke into a run when the lake came into view. It was difficult to run and talk, so Dean just ran beside Frankie towards the lake, then around it to the far side. Frankie stopped, breathing a little heavy, squinting in the poor light. He walked around slowly with his arms out until he stumbled onto something.

"C'mere," he said. Dean obeyed, walking slowly over the unfamiliar terrain. Frankie had found a park bench. Dean joined him on it. They sat looking at the water for a minute. Dean considered asking if Frankie ever brought Jake here, but he thought better of it. If Frankie had come here with Jake, Dean was determined to make it a distant memory.

He slid closer to Frankie on the bench, until their thighs pressed together. In the wan light, Dean could just make out Frankie's profile as he stared blankly at the water. Dean pressed his lips against the side of Frankie's throat and felt the other man instantly relax. It looked like he was in the driver's seat this time. He opened his mouth, tasting his lover's skin. Working down, he left a wet trail using his tongue. Dean paused to suck at his collarbone on the other side while undoing his shirt buttons. Now Dean was free to suckle down Frankie's chest. When he glanced up, Frankie's eyes were closed and instead of catching his breath he was breathing harder.

As he ran the underside of his tongue straight down the center of Frankie's well defined chest, he ran his hands up and down those sculpted sides until Frankie shuddered. Dean paused at the pants. He popped the button open. Using his tongue as a distraction, Dean slipped it into Frankie's bellybutton and worked it around as his hand gently pulled down the zipper. Frankie's cock peeked out over the top of his briefs, the head practically strangled by elastic.

Dean shifted his mouth from the sensitive bellybutton to the more alluring sight below. He wrapped his lips around the crown, sucking gently to pull it free. Frankie groaned, one of those huge hands running up the back of his head to push gently downward. He used one hand to work the dick free as he took more and more of it into his mouth. Dean didn't have as much experience giving blowjobs as he did in receiving, but he was determined to make this man forget everyone and everything else in the whole damn world, for at least ten minutes.

Dean sucked hard as he bobbed slowly up and down Frankie's cock, allowing the hand on his head to set the pace. He was surprised when the hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him up. Dean leaned into the waiting kiss, finding Frankie once again devouring him inch by inch.

"Too many clothes," Frankie whispered into his ear. "Strip."

Dean chuckled lightly. "There's no music out here."

Frankie was breathing far harder than he had been on the run in. He shook his head. "I'll bet you're more beautiful in the moonlight. I want to see if I'm right."

Well, if that wasn't a real chick thing to say, but Dean pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the bench next to Frankie. He reached for his pants, but the big guy beat him to it. A grunt that sounded like "boots" came out and Dean kicked them off. Frankie had him butt naked and standing in a public park, next to a lake, in seconds. He started to move close again, but Frankie held up a hand. Dean again felt like a side of beef, but he didn't mind it so much coming from Frankie, a part of him convinced this was fine.

Frankie pulled off his shoes before standing. He shimmied out of his pants before joining Dean in the moonlight. One of those giant soft hands caressed his skin, starting with his face and running down to his hip.

"Damned beautiful," he said as his hand squeezed Dean's hip.

"Fucking beautiful?" Dean asked suggestively as he moved closer.

"Better believe it," Frankie growled. "Wish we had a wall."

Frankie wanted control. Well, after the few comments he'd made about the asshole, Dean wasn't surprised.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked with a grin. "Don't tell me you've never done it on the ground? Or in a pond?"

Frankie eyed the water skeptically. "In the pond? Things live in there, you know."

Dean walked into the cool water until it was partway up his calves. The bottom was not mucky as he expected, it was hard and gritty sand. Fucking perfect, excuse the pun. He sat in the water and spread his legs. His engorged cock protruded from the cool water, bobbing like a float toy.

"Better hurry before a fish beats you to it," he told Frankie, running his hand up and down his penis.

Frankie got the 'this is gonna be serious fun' look on his face as he waded out to Dean. Dean laid back on his elbows, offering himself up for whatever Frankie wanted now, giving complete control. Frankie knelt between his legs, eyes studying Dean intensely. Dean slid his hand back down his cock, but didn't bring it back up. Instead he dove under the water, into his own warmth below. He smiled as he fingered himself, making sure he was nice and wet, despite the water, for Frankie.

Frankie yanked Dean's hand up and out of the water. He put the fingers Dean had been using in his mouth and sucked, hard, as he positioned himself. Dean pulled his knees up, widening himself as much as possible as Frankie's body slapped the water. Weight descended on him and Dean felt Frankie's dick prod his opening. He grabbed Frankie's ass with one hand, trying to pull him in faster.

"Oh no," Frankie breathed in his face with the scent of nachos and beer, "not after the way you made me go slow." He chuckled in a way that sent shivers down Dean's spine. "My turn."

From the wonderful cool water came a delicious warmth that invaded Dean, pressing inside him slowly. He tried to wait patiently, but it felt like forever before Frankie was fully inside him. Then the big guy wouldn't move, just laid across Dean in the water, breathing heavily into his ear. Needing one arm to hold him up enough for his head to clear the water, Dean used his free hand to knead Frankie's ass.

"Better idea," Frankie finally said. Still deep inside Dean, he shifted to move both of them into shallower water. All the moving and shifting made him press deeper and Dean moaned with the sensation as he wrapped both legs around Frankie's back. One big hand grabbed Dean by the back of his head. "Relax," he ordered.

Dean released his other arm and closed his eyes, allowing Frankie to hold him up. He felt his head lowered to the water. The coolness drenched the back of his head, rising slowly up the sides until it tickled his ears, but then it stopped. He opened his eyes to Frankie's face hovering just above his.

"Fucking perfect," he breathed. "Pun intended." His voice sounded odd through the water, sightly muffled.

Confident he wouldn't drown, Dean squeezed his legs around Frankie and waited for the fun to begin. Frankie pumped in and out of him slowly and Dean imagined how the change in temperature would feel, between the cool water and his warmth. He'd done this with girls, every chance he'd had, because it was so god-damned erotic. He'd been willing to bet, being gay, Frankie'd never experienced it. Frankie slowed down and sped up, again and again.

"Good?" Dean asked as Frankie played with different speeds and tempos.

Frankie stopped, using his larger body to pin Dean in the water again. "Amazing," he said, running a hand along Dean's face. "But I guess you knew, huh?"

Dean nearly answered yes, he did, but then he thought better of it. "I guessed," he replied and was rewarded with a broad smile.

"Oh, baby," Frankie breathed as he started pumping again, "this is going to be just as good for you."

Part of Dean's brain railed against being called 'baby' while the rest of him told it to shut the fuck up, he was busy. Fucking. Really good fucking. Without warning, Frankie's hot hand wrapped around his penis and they rolled to the side. Dean had to keep his head turned to prevent sucking water into his nose or mouth, but it was worth it. Their heads might have been in only an inch or so of water, but the way Frankie had positioned them so their bodies were pointed into the lake and it dropped off pretty quick. Their waists were completely submerged. Now Dean also experienced the warm versus cool effect, which wasn't quite as good with a guy but he wasn't complaining.

Frankie's mouth crashed against his, water splashing into their faces. The tops of their chests pressed together and separated near their stomachs, making room for Dean's hand-job. They broke apart, breathing heavy. The sensations were overwhelming, a common problem for him when he was with Frankie. Dean tried to make Frankie thrust into him harder and faster, at the same time grabbing the hand on his cock and forcing Frankie to speed up the pace. Frankie rolled him onto his back again and with a snap of his hips, plunged deep inside of Dean. He gasped, fingertips digging into Frankie's hips. Frankie did it again, harder and faster each time until Dean felt Frankie grow unbelievably larger inside him. His fingers dug in, wanting Frankie deep, hard, now. The next thrust reached his special spot and Dean felt his insides throb with pleasure. He used his legs to hold the man inside him as he pulsed.

"Move," Frankie pleaded breathlessly. "I need to move."

Dean allowed his legs to loosen and Frankie thrust quick and hard three more times before Dean felt the internal explosion. He could feel Frankie's cock pulse with release as he orgasmed around it. Frankie leaned down with a searing kiss as they rocked gently, riding out their waves of pleasure together. When he was done, Frankie pulled out his spent member.

"Your turn," Frankie whispered. His body lifted and Dean felt the hand on his dick again. "Or can I suck you off?" he asked.

Sometimes Dean forgot Frankie was gay. "If you want," he gasped. "Whatever you want."

Frankie gave him another searing kiss. He motioned for Dean to sit up, in the shallower water. Dean did and the base of his dick was below the water while his achingly engorged cock bobbed half out of the water. "You're going to like this," Frankie promised as he lowered himself.

Dean watched, fascinated, as Frankie bobbed in and out of the water. Oh, god, it was good, maybe even better than being with a girl, though he wasn't going to admit that out loud. Sometimes Frankie paused at the crown, swirling his tongue around it, and sometimes his teeth dragged lightly against sensitive skin as he went up and down. Frankie wasn't in a hurry now, taking his time and seemed to be enjoying himself. Dean certainly was. Just when Dean thought he could stay like this forever, he was hit with a sense of urgency. He resisted grabbing Frankie's head, but couldn't stop his thrusts. Frankie rode them out, clearly being vastly more experienced at this than Dean. The sucking intensified and he bobbed faster. Dean thrust twice more before he came in Frankie's mouth. Frankie sucked him dry, an experience he had been learning to like.

"Holy crap," Dean breathed after Frankie let the limp dick drop from his mouth, "that was amazing."

Frankie crawled over him again, without the sense of urgency from earlier. "Better than some slutty girl?" he asked softly.

For an answer, Dean grabbed his head with one hand and laid one of those world-stopping kisses on him. He could taste the cum still in Frankie's mouth but it wasn't disgusting, it was actually kind of erotic. He felt a little life come back in his penis, but not enough to do anything. Dean pulled away and stared Frankie in the eye.

"Sex God," he stated. "You're not human."

Frankie laughed and it sounded so good to his ears. "God, you're such a nut." He glanced across the lake. They could hear strained sounds of music and voices from the party, floating to them on the gentle night air. "We should get back before they miss us."

Dean kissed him deeply again. "One hour," he said as he broke away. "After that, we're going to find a motel that'll have to kick us out in the morning."

Frankie started doing the amazing kissing, suckling thing on his neck. Dean knew whatever he asked for next the answer would be yes. "Two hours, babe?" he asked from the underside of Dean's jaw.

Dean rolled his eyes in the darkness. "Yes, dear," he rumbled in resignation.

Frankie's warm breath chuckled against his skin. He stood, his perfect body outlined by the dim park lighting as sparkling water dripped away, like a Greek water god. One hand pulled Dean to his feet.

"You sure you want to go back soaking wet?" he asked, still hoping for a way of avoiding the rest of the party.

Frankie gave him that glowing smile. "I'm hoping that bitch Serene asks how I got wet. Because I'm planning to tell her, in explicit detail." He rested hot hands on Dean's cooling skin. "Unless you don't want me to?"

Dean laughed. "Dude, it's the best reason you could give me for going back there."

Frankie smiled as he headed back for the park bench and their clothes. The denim jeans were damn near impossible to pull on his wet legs, but eventually Dean managed. Frankie had an easier time with his slacks, but they clung and showed large wet spots, which Frankie probably loved. When Dean finally had his jeans on and reached for his shirt, he caught Frankie staring.

"What?" he asked.

Frankie's bright smile was clear even in this light. "Nothing. I just like watching you."

Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled on his tight t-shirt, the one Frankie insisted he wear. It too dried his skin and produced large wet spots, which matched Frankie's shirt. They both pulled on their shoes before heading slowly back. Even with the promise of embarrassing the woman who annoyed Frankie, Dean didn't really want to go back. He didn't know any of those people and suspected most of them wanted to hang with Frankie just to be invited to these parties. The place reeked of hangers-on and high school style popularity crap. Frankie seemed oblivious to it all.

They slipped back into the house the way they left, through the kitchen door. There were a couple of people mixing drinks by the sink who greeted them warmly.

"Frank! I wondered what happened to you," a guy Dean had met earlier, Stan something, said. "Damn, is it raining out?" He peered through the window above the sink.

"Nope," Frankie said with a sly grin and a wink at Dean. His head nodded subtly at the door to the den. Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself for the raucous party awaiting them.

"Then how did you get so wet?" Stan demanded, following them back into the party. "Dean!" he shouted over the music. "Is that sand in your hair?"

Dean ran a hand over the back of his head, dislodging wet sand, and motioned to Frankie as he pressed between people in an attempt to follow through the party. Frankie found Serene near the front door talking to two other people. He stood with the group as Dean fought against the crowd to join him, with Stan still following in his wake. Dean arrived just in time to see Serene notice Frankie's wet shirt and slacks.

"Frank!" she shouted, reaching out to touch his wet shirt. Dean resisted the urge to slap her hand away, then wondered why the hell he had that urge in the first damn place. "What happened?"

She turned accusing eyes on Dean. He pinpointed the exact moment Serene realized he was wet too, when the accusation in her eyes shifted into surprise. She squinted at his hair and then at Frankie's. Serene pulled up on Frankie's arm to shout at his ear. "Why are you wet?"

Frankie gave Dean a sly smile before leaning down to talk directly into her ear. She started to pull away, but Frankie held her by both arms and kept talking. Her face flushed from pink to a rich hue of embarrassed red. Dean figured she had had enough and nudged Frankie. Before he made Frankie release her, he leaned down to say something himself.

"Sex god," he repeated. "I wasn't kidding."

Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. "Really?" she mouthed.

Dean grinned broadly as he grabbed Frankie by the front of his wet shirt. They demo-ed one of those world-stopping kisses for the whole damn party. When they broke apart, Dean noticed the music had stopped.

Glancing back, he saw Stan sporting a shocked look and Serene'e face was redder than Frankie's had been earlier. Frankie's bluer-than-they-have-a-right-to-be blue eyes shone as he smiled at Dean.

"Any more secrets you'd like to share, Babe?" Frankie asked, using the horrible pet name in frigging public. Ah, hell, it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it now.

"Plenty," Dean replied with a matching smile as he moved close enough touch to feel the heat radiating off Frankie's warm body. "Want a tour?" His eyes danced to the door, inviting Frankie to go out and play.

Frankie laughed at him. "Later. You dance?" Dean shrugged, hoping not to be put completely on display. Frankie spun around to face the room. "What the hell happened to the music? Somebody turn on the cassette player!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 –** _And we take another dive in my gutter... So is anyone else interested in John finding out about Frankie?_

A loud pounding beat from AC/DC pulsed through the room. Not exactly dance music, but Dean figured Frankie was still trying to overcome all the crap the moron had been telling his friends behind his back. Some friends. Frankie pulled him away from Serene to a far corner of the room where he allowed Dean to dominate his time, or maybe it was the other way around, he wasn't sure. Apparently the pond had been better for Frankie than Dean had anticipated and, yeah, he kind of liked the attention. Between Dean's demonstration and Frankie ignoring the rest of his guests, the party broke up pretty quickly.

"Hey, Frank!" A hand waved between their faces. Irritated, Dean looked up to see Stan trying to get their attention. "Later, man." Stan shook Frankie's hand. He offered it to Dean next. Dean shook as Stan told him, "Man, next time you're in town, tell Frank not to have a party right away. It's just not a party when he's spending all his time with you."

Dean shook his head with a grin. "Yeah, no promises there. Frankie has a mind of his own." He glanced over at the amazing lover seated by him. "But I can promise next time I'm anywhere close to this state, I'll make the trip."

Frankie returned his grin. "You'd better."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, feeling playful. "Or else what?"

"Uh, later, guys." Stan hurried out the door.

"I better check on my sister," Frankie said and he had 'the look' in his eyes. Dean felt some life stir below his waist. If that look was anything to go by, he was in for another amazing chapter in his sex vacation.

Frankie returned with a huge smile. "Okay, she's passed out in my other roommate's room. He won't be back before tomorrow, at the earliest. My roommate Steve looks like he's about to crash, and nobody is passed out in either bathroom and my room is one hundred percent clear."

Dean grinned back. "I don't think I can top the pond," he admitted. "But I'm sure willing to try."

Frankie motioned impatiently for him to move his ass to the bedroom. He turned down the stereo, but left Led Zepplin playing.

"Maybe it'll help cover up any noise we make," Frankie whispered as he closed the bedroom door.

Dean shucked his clothes as he headed for the bathroom. "I feel like pond," he announced. He chuckled to himself when he heard Frankie rushing to strip and follow him. Yeah, he really liked this attention, and he had to admit he liked Frankie. This was a place he wouldn't mind coming back to, again and again, as long as he was welcome. He wondered if Frankie could handle the truth of what he did, but decided not to worry about it right now.

Broad hands ran along his shoulders, making his breath catch in anticipation. "A shower wall might be interesting," the deep voice whispered.

Dean turned to face him. "We're always in a hurry," he said. "How about we take some time? I don't have anyplace to be."

Frankie gave him a beaming smile. "The tub?"

Dean eyed the large garden tub warily. "Isn't that kind of a chick thing to do?"

Those wonderful warm lips were on his neck again, just below his left ear. Yeah, they were taking a bath. Five minutes later Dean stepped into hot, scented water. He lowered his ass into the water slowly, giving his skin time to adjust. When he was in, hot water covering his stomach, Frankie stepped in. He sat smoothly, as if the temperature were nothing. Dean made a mental note not to refer to gay men as wimps ever again.

Frankie grabbed something that looked like an artificial plastic sponge and made it really sudsy. "C'mere," he said. Dean slid around in the water until he sat with his back to Frankie, between the man's legs. Frankie scrubbed his back and shoulders, neck, arms. He pulled Dean back against him to scrub his chest. All the tension which had built up during the party washed away under Frankie's careful ministrations.

He closed his eyes, resting against Frankie as the sudsy-thing rubbed soothingly all over. When he was relaxed enough to almost fall asleep, he felt something. His nearly limp penis was being gently massaged. He shifted, trying to give Frankie more access.

"Ssshhhh," Frankie whispered in his ear. "Relax, I got you."

So he did. At first it just felt awesome, Frankie's hands shifting between his penis, thighs, and the general groin area. Then he wanted more, more stimulation, more friction on his dick. It was ready now, at full attention.

"Dean?" Frankie spoke directly into his ear. "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," Dean agreed instantly. After all Frankie had done for him, he had been wanting to return the favors.

"It's kind of big," Frankie replied, his hand still running up and down Dean's length.

"I know," Dean replied, smirking at Frankie.

Frankie's chest rumbled with his chuckle. "No, not that. Well, yeah, that too, but it's not what I meant."

Dean half turned to see Frankie's face. "What? What do you want?" When Frankie didn't answer right away, Dean tried the same technique that worked so well on him. He kissed and suckled along Frankie's neck and jaw.

"Bottoms," Frankie breathed out. "I want to be on bottom."

Dean paused, considering it. Hell, he'd try anything once. The price you pay for being with a gay guy, he guessed. "Remember the wall?" he asked softly. Frankie gave him an odd look, but he nodded. "You'll have to talk me through it," Dean explained.

A beautific smile spread across Frankie's face. "Bedroom," he said, "now."

Dean chuckled as he stood. The towels waiting for them to use were soft and fluffy and Dean found himself thinking he might be able to live this gay life. He let a rather excited Frankie lead him into the bedroom. Droplets of water fell from the ends of Frankie's hair, coating his shoulders with small shimmering beads. Dean had a desire to lick them off.

Frankie opened a small drawer in his bedside table. He removed a small tube and tossed it to Dean. Dean allowed his towel to fall to the floor as he caught it. Lube. Flavored.

"Vanilla?" he asked, moving closer.

Frankie smiled as he gathered the pillows on the bed. "If you have a preference, I'll get it for your next visit."

Dean laughed lightly as he watched Frankie lay on his stomach, with the pillows under his hips. "Bribes already?"

Frankie looked at him over his shoulder. "Better believe it."

Dean flicked on the small bedside lamp before turning off the overhead light. He preferred working in semi-darkness. Lube in hand, he knelt on the bed between Frankie's legs. "What do I do first?"

Frankie cleared his throat, like he was suddenly shy or embarrassed, which Dean found endearing. "Uh, well, put some on your fingers."

With a shrug, Dean flipped the top open and smeared lube across the fingers of his right hand. "Got it."

"Now, uh..." he cleared his throat again. When he looked over his shoulder, Dean could swear his face was pinker than it had been earlier. "You need to stretch me." When Dean didn't move right away, Frankie added, "You know, so you'll fit?"

Dean pointed at his ready-to-go cock. "Tab A." Now he pointed at Frankie's asshole. "Slot B?"

Frankie's face was definitely red now as he nodded.

Dean added more lube to his fingers. He ran his coated middle fingertip along the crack of this gorgeous ass. Using his clean hand to knead one firm globe, Dean gently pressed his fingertip inside, surprised by the amount of resistance.

"Keep going," Frankie panted, "it's been a while."

He pushed harder, past the first knuckle and then the second. Now he moved it slowly in and out and felt the muscles around his finger relax some, but his dick was considerably larger than one finger. When his index finger moved easily, Dean added a second finger. Frankie gasped and Dean froze, fearful of hurting the big guy. Then Frankie pushed back against his fingers and Dean grinned, resuming his finger-fuck. Frankie was moaning before Dean added a third finger, with it Frankie sounded obscene. Then Frankie jerked and shuddered.

"What?" Dean asked, alarmed. "Did I hurt you?" His hand froze in position.

Frankie took a shuddering breath as he shook his head. His ass lifted up, encouraging Dean to continue. Confused, Dean repeated his last movement, this time noticing that his fingertips brushed against something which caused Frankie to shudder. "Let me guess," he said softly, playing with it and watching Frankie squirm, "prostate?"

Frankie's moan was the only answer he got, but it was good enough. Dean worked the opening until he thought he could fit. Leaving his fingers inside and rubbing against Frankie's prostate, Dean used his free hand to reach for the lube. One-handed he popped it open and squeezed lube out directly onto his cock. He set the open bottle aside, in case they needed it, so he could slick himself up. He used plenty, wanting this to be pleasurable.

He pulled all three fingers out. Frankie's moan sounded disappointed. Dean thrust the fingers back in, with Frankie pushing back against him, wanting more. He did this twice more before attempting to substitute the real thing.

With the head of his penis pressed against Frankie's hole, he whispered, "Warm-ups are over. You ready?"

Frankie nodded eagerly. "Go slow," he panted, "but don't stop."

Dean used his slick hand to guide his cock inside, having to shove harder than he was used to in order to pass the thick ring of muscle. Once he had the head inside, though, the rest slipped in easily. Dean kept it slow, as ordered, but it was difficult. So different from a woman, yet it still felt damned good. It was like screwing a tight virgin, only instead of natural wetness they used the lube, which also felt pretty damned good. Now he had both hands on Frankie's hips as he moved slowly in and out, waiting for permission to move faster.

Frankie moved up onto his elbows, rocking back against Dean until his pubic hair pressed flat against Frankie's ass. If he had balls there wouldn't be room for them. "More," Frankie pleaded, "more."

That sounded like permission. Dean thrust in and out, setting a steady rhythm as Frankie moaned and rocked beneath him. He tried some hip rolls and thrusts, like he used with woman, and one in particular Frankie seemed to like, so Dean guessed he was hitting the prostate. Jesus, he was tight! Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could last.

"Harder," Frankie demanded. "Until you come."

"Won't...be...long," Dean panted.

That seemed to egg Frankie on, because he shove his ass further in the air and pressed back against each of Dean's thrusts until Dean couldn't think straight. Forgetting this was about showing Frankie a good time, Dean let his lower brain take over, thrusting like a maniac. The noises Frankie made, an awful lot like porn, had Dean spilling into him. It took three desperate thrusts to drain his cock before Dean pulled all the way out. He collapsed next to Frankie on the bed.

"Damn," he breathed. "I had...no idea."

Frankie, breathing hard himself, took the pillows out from under his hips and put one under Dean's head. He snuggled up close, pressing his naked body along Dean's side and resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean figured they were done now as he closed his eyes.

He might have fallen asleep, he wasn't sure, but feeling Frankie's lips on his jaw brought him back around. "Yes, dear?" he rumbled softly.

Frankie laughed into his skin, but did not stop. Then Dean was aware of the larger body pressed against his. Frankie moved around slowly, until he had Dean pinned to the mattress, still doing those wonderful things to his neck and jaw. It took Dean a moment to notice the second sensation below. Frankie was inside him, moving slowly in and out. Between the sinful mouth on his skin and the cock sliding in and out of him, Dean couldn't form words. He moaned, not really caring what he sounded like.

"We didn't finish," Frankie whispered. Dean nodded, perfectly ready to let Frankie drive. Then Frankie trailed suckling kisses down his neck as his pace picked up. One hand wrapped around Dean's thigh, urging it up. Dean wrapped both legs around Frankie's waist, hearing the big guy groan in pleasure at the change. He shifted his legs even further up in an attempt to give his lover more access. Frankie moved further up, mouth latching on the soft spot where neck met shoulder. Dean gasped, his brain nothing but jelly as teeth nipped the sensitive area.

Sounds familiar from the motel they were kicked out of filled the room as Dean returned the thrusts as energetically as they were delivered. He squeezed his legs, rocking his hips under Frankie. Frankie's mouth worked back up his neck to his mouth. One hand grasping Frankie's tight ass, the other hand's fingers tangled in Frankie's dark hair and pressed their mouths tight. Teeth and tongues clashed passionately.

A squeak drew his attention from Frankie. His eyes darted over the massive sweaty shoulder to the door. Frankie's roommate Steve stood in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Dean made a face and waved him away. Steve backed out, shocked though he ought to look embarrassed, closing the door behind him. Dean returned his attention to Frankie. Being caught in the act, without Frankie knowing, made it even kinkier than the pond. He felt the orgasm welling up. Urging Frankie to let loose, he gave in to the sensations overcoming him.

Yeah, these were the noises that got them kicked out. Definitely. Dean didn't want to know which ones were coming from him. Now Frankie slowed down, proceeding to pump into him at a slow but steady pace. Dean whined, wanting it hard and fast.

"Not yet, babe," Frankie panted. "You're not there yet."

He sure felt there, until he noticed a second orgasm starting when the first one hadn't finished yet. Frankie's steady, even rhythm pulled it out of him, brought it crashing down and drowning out the rest of the world. Then Frankie's mouth was on his again and the noises motels didn't like were muffled. He didn't notice Frankie's orgasm, but Frankie helped him ride out his. He was left panting and covered in sweat and sex and Frankie.

The big guy gave him a huge smile as he lifted up to look at Dean. "Amazing," he whispered in the relative silence of their room. "God, I don't know how you do that."

Dean shook his head. His vocabulary was minimal. "Only with you," he said.

The huge smile widened. "Honest?" Dean nodded. That wonderful mouth was back on his neck, just below his left ear. "You're a sweetheart."

Dean laughed at the term. "Babe is bad enough," he managed to say. "Call me that in public and I'll kick your ass."

Now Frankie chuckled, and Dean felt it through their pressed-together chests. "Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Dean shook his head, finally having caught his breath. "It'd take more than that." He eyed Frankie shrewdly as he ran a hand along the side of Frankie's head, through his hair. "You were staking a claim tonight, weren't you?"

Frankie stared at him a moment before answering, "Well, can't blame a guy for trying. Can you?"

Dean smiled as he replied, "No way." He winked. "I take it you hate being called Frankie?"

The smile, the big one, was back. "Not by you."

"Fair trade," he told Frankie. Then he laughed, drawing an inquiring look from the guy pinning him to the bed. "Sorry, it's just that made me think of my brother. Anytime I needed him to do something, like see the dentist or get a shot at the doctor, I'd have to bribe him. He'd always agree if it was a 'fair trade.'"

Frankie rolled off, laying on his side beside Dean. "So you two did get along. What happened?"

Dean sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Honestly, I'm not sure. One day things were fine, and the next, Sam and Dad were screaming at each other over college and he left." He shrugged. "I haven't heard from him since."

Thick fingers trailed through the sweat on his chest. "That sucks," Frankie said in a soft voice. "How close were you?"

Dean shrugged, turning to look in those eyes. "Not as close as I thought," he admitted.

Frankie wriggled closer. "If he called. Right now. Would you tell him about me?" His eyes lit up with mischief.

Dean laughed despite himself. "Dude, we were never _that_ close."

"How about your dad?" Frankie asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not unless I want a two-day lecture." He grinned at Frankie. "Doesn't mean I won't be back here every chance I get."

Frankie shrugged and beamed at him. "I'll take what I can get." He wrapped Dean's arm around him, laying his head on Dean's shoulder. "So why will your dad give you a lecture? He knows."

Dean adjusted Frankie's head a little lower so it was more comfortable. "Yeah he knows. He's my dad." He swallowed hard. "Well, I guess it's because he raised me as a guy. With good reason. So he expects me to act like one." Dean chuckled a little. "He caught me with a guy once, I think I was sixteen. I thought he was gonna burst a blood vessel. I mean, his face literally turned purple."

Frankie was looking at him with a smile that was just a little sad. "So he doesn't want you to just be you?"

Dean closed his eyes against the same question he had been asking himself for years. "You don't understand," he said instead, "it's the life we lead. He worries."

"He worries about you being with guys?" Frankie chuckled a little. "Sounds like a typical dad to me."

Now Dean chuckled. "Typical doesn't even come close," he admitted. "Maybe I'll tell you about it. Someday."

Frankie's body pressed closer to his. "I'm going to hold you to that," his voice said as Dean drifted off into a warm sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6** - _all right, just a little phone action in here. Next chapter - John meets Frankie!! I might post the next 2 together, so we can get to the good stuff._ _To anyone just joining us, welcome to my gutter! And greetings to all my gutter-neighbors!!_

Dean fiddled with his cell, watching Dad from one corner of his eye. It had been two weeks since he left Frankie's, two weeks since he'd had any sex, and two weeks since he'd heard the voice that made his knees weak.

Dad was talking to someone on the phone. Sounded like either a vengeful spirit or a poltergeist. Dad snapped his cell closed.

"New case," he announced loudly. "Sounds like a spirit. We can leave in the morning."

Dean nodded, standing. "How about I grab some food? I'm starved."

"Sounds good," Dad said as he stood. "Want some company?"

Dean hesitated, unsure how to take 'buddy'-Dad. Ever since Sam left, Dad had been friendly and buddy-buddy, almost acting like they were partners instead of father and son. "Nah," Dean said with a shake of his head, "I'll be back in thirty. Beer?"

Dad shook his head. "We need to leave early." He pointed a finger at Dean as he sat back down at the table. "You have twenty minutes."

Dean rolled his eyes, taking it for what it was, Dad showing he cared by giving orders. He waved off the twenty minutes as he pushed out the door. Rolling the keys in one hand and his cell in the other, Dean made a decision. He fired up the car and pressed the talk button at the same time. Pressing the phone to his ear as he pulled out of the motel parking lot, Dean listened to it ring twice before Frankie picked up.

"Dean?" God, did Frankie's voice squeak? "Dean, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," Dean replied as he scouted for a fast food place Dad might like. "So, uh, what's going on there?"

"Nothing," Frankie said. "Hang on a minute."

Dean listened to heavy footsteps and a door slamming closed.

"Okay, I'm alone now. You?" Frankie asked.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "I told Dad I was grabbing something for dinner."

"It's good to hear your voice," Frankie said in a hesitant voice. "I was, uh, wondering if you'd call."

"Yeah, well..." Dean spotted a place that looked like it might have decent burgers. "You didn't call either."

Frankie's laugh washed over him. "Guess it just goes to show we're both guys, huh?" He laughed again.

Dean couldn't help but join in, chuckling at Frankie's reaction. "Yeah, I guess," he replied when the laughter stopped.

"So, uh," Frankie cleared his throat, "I don't suppose you mentioned me to your dad?"

Dean sighed. "Dude, I told you I can't tell Dad."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Frankie said, cutting him off. "But I thought you should know, after the party, I guess we woke my sister up. She told my parents about you."

Dean parked the car outside the burger joint. "And? They giving you a bad time or something?" he asked, surprised by the amount of concern he felt for Frankie's situation.

"Kind of." Frankie paused for a moment. "I told them you had to leave for work and wouldn't be back for a while, but they want to meet you."

"Your parents?" Dean demanded as he switched the phone to his other hand in order to open the restaurant door. "Why the hell do they want to meet me?" He stood at the end of the order line, skimming the menu posted on the wall.

"Gee, Dean, I don't know. You're all I talk about, we woke Steve and Lisa up and got kicked out of a motel, plus the scene we made at my party. The whole town is talking about it. Why do you think they want to meet you?" Frankie demanded, sounding a little pissy.

Dean grinned at the one item which caught his attention. "I'm all you talk about?"

Frankie sighed. "That's the only thing you heard, isn't it? Yes, you're all I talk about, think about, dream about."

"You're such a girl," Dean scoffed as he moved forward in line. "Hang on a second." He pressed the phone to his chest as he ordered two burgers with fries and drinks to go. After paying the girl, a cute brunette who winked at him, Dean lifted the phone back to his ear.

"What kind of dreams?" he asked as he returned the girl's wink and stood aside for the next customer.

"Pervert," Frankie hissed into the phone. "Are you in public or something?"

"Yeah, I'm waiting for my food," Dean replied.

"Good." Frankie cleared his throat. "They're hot, sweaty dreams that have me coming in my hand when I wake up."

Dean swallowed hard, glancing around to be sure no one heard that. "And?"

"You sure you want to do this in public?" Frankie asked and Dean could hear the fun lilt in his voice. "Honestly, I'd just like to know when I'm going to see you again."

"As soon as I can swing it. Honest," Dean replied. "Tell me more about those dreams."

Frankie chuckled in the low tone Dean had come to associate with a really good time. "In my dream, we're standing in the shower, hot water steaming everything up."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, like we need help with that."

"Shut up. Anyway," Frankie continued, "you have me against the back wall. You leave bruises all the way down to my groin."

Dean swallowed hard, checking his receipt for his order number. "Uh-huh," he murmured, hoping Frankie would continue.

"You in the car yet?" Frankie asked in his deepest voice.

"Not yet." One more number before his order should be ready.

"Next thing I know your hot mouth is on me, tongue swirling around my crown," Frankie's voice is slow and steady, like he wants to draw this out. "I want to thrust into your mouth, but you won't let me. You keep my hips pinned to the wall, leaving bruises in the skin. You go so damned slow, just torturing me with your sweet tongue, rubbing it all up and down my cock."

Thank god, his number! Dean snagged the two white bags and the double drink carrier off the counter. He beat a double-time retreat to the door.

"Did I hear a door?" Frankie demanded.

"Yeah, I'm heading for the car," Dean replied. He didn't just sound breathless, did he? Nah, he was being paranoid.

"You're the kind of guy who keeps all the stuff he needs to wash his precious car in the trunk, right?" Frankie asked.

"Dude, I live outta my car. You know that. Of course I have that kind of stuff in the trunk, so what?" Dean demanded as he opened the car door.

"Go get a towel."

Dean froze as he leaned in to set his food on the seat. "What?" he asked slowly, glancing around the parking area. No one seemed to be paying him any attention.

"Go get a towel," Frankie ordered again.

Dean complied, grabbing a towel from the trunk. The moment the trunk lid slammed closed, Frankie was asking, "What was that?"

"Trunk," Dean replied. "That's where I keep the car towels."

"Good, it means you're still in the parking lot. Are you parked close to the door or at the far end, where odds are nobody is going to park to close to your precious car?"

Dean smiled at how well Frankie seemed to know him in such a short time. "Far end."

He could swear he could hear Frankie's evil grin through the phone. "Good. Get back in, but don't leave yet."

"Okay." Dean sat behind the wheel. He shoved the food over into the passenger seat to make room for his mysterious towel. "Ready. Now what?"

"Now for the second part of my dream," Frankie promised and Dean's pants felt awfully tight in the crotch. "And it's starring you, of course. Lay the towel over your lap, this is a participation thing."

"Shit," Dean hissed through clenched teeth. "Dude, I didn't know you were so kinky."

"You're kidding, right?" Frankie asked with the low laugh which sent shivers of anticipation through Dean's whole body. Yeah, who was he kidding? Frankie liked getting it on with a hermaphrodite, he had to be seriously kinky.

Dean laid the towel over his lap, glancing out the windows to be sure nobody was watching. "Okay," he breathed into the phone.

"Reach under the towel and undo your pants. I want you to push them down until you're naked under that towel," Frankie instructed.

Dean bit his lower lip as he complied, shimmying his pants down to mid-thigh. He adjusted the towel again, covering himself up completely, just in case someone glanced in. "Ready."

"You won't let me come," Frankie continued in his husky voice. "So I pull you up and pin you against the side wall, hot water pouring over both of us."

Dean rested his head back against the seat and allowed Frankie's smooth tones to wash over him, wondering when his participation would be required.

"Put your phone on speaker and set it on the seat," Frankie ordered.

Dean did it, figuring this was were it would really start getting good. "Okay, you're on speaker. I swear, if I get arrested for this..."

Frankie's laugh echoed in the car. "I lift you against the wall, cool tiles pressing into your back as you wrap your legs around me. First I tease your opening with my cock, dipping in and out, nice and slow, just to drive you crazy. Can you feel it?"

Ah, participation time. Dean snaked one hand under the towel, still glancing guiltily out the windows. He used his fingertips to tease himself, just the way Frankie described. Want and Need coursed over him.

"Gonna kick your ass," he growled.

Frankie chuckled again, low and deep. "As my dick teases you, I run a hand up and down your cock."

Dean slipped his other hand under the towel and started rubbing his shaft. His eyes slipped shut as he imagined being in the shower with Frankie, spreading his legs wider as his fingertips stroked the sensitive flesh. He let a growl slip out.

"You growl at me," Frankie's voice fills the car, "so I push all the way in."

Dean plunged two fingers inside, enjoying his own warm heat. Juices dripped down his hand, he was more turned on by phone sex than he realized.

"I pump hard and fast, just the way you like it." Frankie was panting now and Dean knew he was simulating his part on the other end. "And I pump your cock to match."

Dean made his hands match rhythm, running up and down his length while his fingers pumped in and out of him. "I clench my muscles around you," he panted heavily.

Frankie's moan came from the seat to his right. "Yeah, baby. God, you feel so good."

Dean's hands sped up. "Faster," he demanded. "Faster, Frankie."

"You're so wet," Frankie said in his sexy voice, "I can feel it even in the water." How could he go back to the dream now? But Dean didn't care as the image of being pinned to the wet wall came back to him. "I slip easily inside you, but you're still tight around me."

Dean was panting heavily now and the sensitive skin on his dick started to hurt from too much friction, since he was rubbing it dry. He switched hands, lubing himself up with his own juices. Holy crap, why hadn't he thought of doing this before? He thrust into his slick hand, his other fingers penetrating his wet depths.

"Frankie," he gasped as the overwhelming feeling built up, "close. So close."

"We're so hot the water feels cool, like the pond," Frankie said and Dean flashed to their pond escapade. Oh god, was Frankie going to drag this out? "I pump you harder, I know you're close."

Dean grunted in assent, his head rolling from side to side on the headrest as his hands worked frantically. He glanced down at his lap. The towel had been pushed to the side and he could see his own slick cock, veins standing out in relief. He had slipped down in his seat, his ass nearly horizontal as his other hand pumped in and out with Frankie's voice.

"Can you feel me, babe?" Frankie asked, panting as heavily as Dean.

"Y-yeah," he grunted, barely able to form words.

"Feel good, don't I?" Frankie demanded. He grunted again. "Come on, babe, come for me. Make me come inside you."

Oh, hot damn, that did it. That feeling, the building orgasm, washed over him. Dean pumped his release into the towel as his vaginal muscled clenched and spasmed around his fingers. Sounds which reminded him of being kicked out of the motel filled the car and he couldn't tell if they came from him or the phone, and he didn't care. He rode out his release, realizing it was over when he once again glanced out the windows to see if anyone else had a front seat view of the show. No one, thank god.

"Dean? Babe? You still there?"

"Yeah," Dean panted as he grabbed the towel to clean himself up. He had to lift up to wipe his ass and the seat under him. "Jesus, Frankie, you really know your shit."

Frankie's laugh was over him again, warm and comforting. "Well, maybe you'll call me more often."

Dean's laugh joined Frankie's as he pulled his pants back on. "Hell, yeah," he agreed enthusiastically. His mind raced to balance calls to Frankie with hunting with Dad. Dad seemed to have radar when it came to Dean's 'extra-curricular activities.' "How about next Sunday?"

"How about every Sunday?" Frankie asked and he sounded so sincere, almost like he was pleading with Dean.

Dean wiped his hands off slowly before picking up the phone. He took it off speaker as he lifted it to his ear. "Anything you say, Frankie," he told the man he imagined to be listening intently.

"Anything?" Frankie demanded.

"Well, yeah, I guess," Dean said slowly, wondering what he just promised.

"Then tell me what you do," Frankie pleaded.

"Dude," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as he rubbed his hands nervously on the towel again, "the last time I did that, the chick totally freaked."

"I'm not a chick," Frankie pointed out. "Come on, Dean. My imagination has been running wild the past two weeks. I've imagined you doing everything from being a cat-burglar to running guns."

"That might explain those erotic dreams of yours," Dean said with a chuckle.

"I'm serious, Dean. Look, why won't you tell me?" Frankie pleaded.

"Because..." He swallowed hard. "Because you'll say I'm insane and never want to speak to me again."

"Dude, I already think you're a drug-runner and I'm still having these dreams about you. Just tell me."

Dean sighed, running the fingers of his free hand over the steering wheel. "You know that stupid show about the guys who hunt ghosts?"

Frankie answered slowly, "Yeeeaaahhh?"

"They're amateurs. If they ever actually run into a real ghost, they're gonna get their asses handed to them," Dean spat out with more venom than he intended. The phone was silent for so long he was sure Frankie had hung up on him, never to be heard from again. "Frankie?" he asked softly.

"I'm here," came the flat response. Dean didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. "So. You look for ghosts?"

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Sort of. We hunt them."

"How do you hunt a ghost?" Frankie asked in the same distant, flat voice.

"You, uh," Dean imagined Frankie had already placed him in a mental straight jacket. "You think I'm nuts."

"Oh, I already knew you were a nut," Frankie said in a warmer voice, "now I'm trying to figure out if you're crazy."

He sighed, staring up at the Impala's headliner. "Do you want proof? An eyewitness or something?"

"You have an eyewitness?" Frankie asked. "Yeah, I'd like that. But, Dean?"

"What?" he asked, feeling deflated.

"I still want you to call next Sunday. Okay, babe?" His voice was the pond and the bathtub and naked snuggling on the couch. Dean found himself agreeing readily, and promising to send Frankie some proof. Dad would go ballistic if he ever found out.

Dad.

Damn, the burgers were getting cold. Dean listened to the gossip from Frankie as he drove back to the motel, but his mind was still on the fact he told Frankie the truth. Frankie didn't freak, at least not as bad as he expected, but he wanted proof. If Dean wanted to appease his sex-god, he had to produce proof. He could do that. He would do that.

* * *

Frank checked his mail and one letter stood out from all the rest. It was addressed to 'Frankie' and there was only one person on the planet allowed to call him that. He used a knife from the kitchen to carefully slit it open. Dean's flowing script filled the page with addresses and phone numbers. At the bottom of the page was the note 'Yes, dear – Dean.'

Frank closed himself in his room as he called the first number on the page. A woman answered. When he explained he was a friend of Dean's, she went on and on about how grateful she was to Dean and John for saving her family. She demanded to know if Dean's shoulder was better, since he had been tossed down the stairs. Frankie swallowed hard, having trouble with the idea of Dean being hurt, before answering that he was fine. The woman expressed her gratitude again before he hung up.

He called the next number. This time a man answered and he did not sound happy with Frank mentioning Dean or his father. He ranted and raved about grave desecration, illusionists and sick perverts scaring his brother and sister-in-law half to death with their tricks. Frank was about to hang up when a new voice came on the phone and the rants faded to the background.

"John?" the new voice asked. "What's wrong?"

Frank explained he was a friend of Dean's and was just checking to make sure their 'problem' was really gone.

"Oh, yes. They definitely got it," the man said, sounding relieved. "You'll have to excuse my brother, he's an idiot. He's convinced we paid for them to get rid of the ghost, but we didn't. Maybe we should have. I mean, they risked their lives, thanks just doesn't seem enough." The man gasped. "Damn, I'm not sure I even thanked them. They left so fast. Hey, will you tell them thanks, and that if they need anything, to call us?"

"I'll pass it on," Frank promised as he hung up. The next couple of numbers were similar stories of Dean and his father rushing to rescue people from spectral assassins. One woman even went so far as to cuss him out because they didn't arrive in time to save her husband. Frank did not feel bad hanging up on her.

Either all those people were crazy, and he definitely put the last woman into that category, or it was true. Dean and his father hunted and killed, if you could use that word, ghosts. He stared at the date on his cell phone. Two days until Dean was due to call. Two days to decide if he wanted to answer the call when it came. Frank lifted the page filled with Dean's handwriting. His eyes fell to the bottom. 'Yes, dear – Dean.'

Frank carefully tore off the bottom. He taped it to the lamp beside his bed, where it would be the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing he saw at night. Who was he kidding? Of course he would answer when Dean called, whenever Dean called.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7** - _Okay, this chapter is really tame, and clean. Sorry about that, it just kept hovering over the gutter. I did my best to drag the next one back in, so I posted them both at once._

He really hated freaking poltergeists. Dean put on a good show for the family, grinning and flirting with their daughter who was maybe twelve and clearly had a crush on him. The second he was in Dad's truck, Dean let it all go. He groaned loudly, refusing to reach for the seatbelt. The world swam in front of his eyes.

"Dean?" Dad's hand grabbed his shoulder. "Son, what's wrong?"

"Ribs," Dean gasped as fire seared his left side.

"You need the ER or some pain pills?" Dad asked, the hand still gripping his shoulder.

Dean shifted and a new wave of pain washed over him, but it didn't feel like any of the ribs were out of place or piercing something they shouldn't be. "Pills," he admitted.

"Okay." Dad gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "First motel I spot we're pulling in and checking you out."

Dean nodded, unable to speak through the pain as Dad hit a bump in the road. He didn't notice they had pulled into a motel, but he did notice the stopped truck. The truck stopping didn't stop the world from spinning, though. He might vomit. Dad wouldn't like that, not in his truck. Next thing he knew Dad was helping him out of the truck and into the a room. He glanced around. It was plain jane and boring, nothing interesting to see here. He scoffed at the lack of imagination.

"Yeah, I know," Dad said as he guided Dean to the far bed, "I don't have your flare for picking motels. Let me help with your shirts."

Dean felt like a little kid as Dad helped him undress, but with the way his head was swimming he was pretty sure he couldn't have done it. Dad whistled through his teeth before his t-shirt was completely off. That was not a promising sound.

"God, Dean," Dad murmured. "What the hell happened?"

"Piano," Dean huffed as Dad's broad fingers probed his side.

Dad's eyes flicked up to his, filled with worry and concern Dean didn't want to see. "What piano?"

"The one they used to have," he said through clenched teeth. "You were upstairs when it threw it at me."

"Didn't you duck?" Dad demanded, but Dean heard the worry in the angry tones.

"Yeah. Guess that's why it dropped the damn thing on me."

Dad's startled look was almost worth the pain he was in. He blinked hard, trying to force the double image of Dad into one.

"Shit," Dad hissed. Dean flinched when Dad pressed a particularly tender spot. "Well," Dad said straightening up, "you've got at least three cracked ribs there, kiddo. You're on vacation for the next four to six weeks."

"What?" Dean demanded. "It's not that bad, Dad. Honest."

Dad rolled his eyes. "We'll go stay with Bobby for a while. I'll give him a call."

Dean was about to protest again, but the thought of staying at Bobby's for a few weeks sounded pretty good. He could give the Impala a really good tune-up, get her running just right. Yeah, that sounded pretty sweet. Dad handed the television remote over before calling Bobby.

Awesome, Myth Busters was on. Those guys were nuts. Oh, man, the chick was testing jellyfish treatments? She had more guts than he gave her credit for, and when she was double on the screen like that, she was twice as hot.

"Change of plans," Dad said, stepping in front of the television. Dean hit the off button, but it took a couple of tries since the buttons kept moving. Both Dads frowned at him. "Bobby needs some help with a demon, and you're in no shape to go."

He held up one hand. "How many fingers, Dean?"

Dean squinted at the hand. "Uh...three?"

Now Dad loomed over him, feeling his head. What the hell? When Dad's fingers brushed the area on the back of his head, behind his left ear, his vision swam with blackness and he gasped.

"Dean!"

Dean forced his eyes to open, finding a really worried Dad standing over him. "What?"

Dad sighed heavily. "You scared the crap outta me, dude," he said as he sat next to Dean. "Why didn't you tell me you had a concussion?"

"I do?" Dean asked, blinking his bleary eyes. "Are we still going to Bobby's?"

Dad shook his head. "I'm not leaving you alone. Not like this. I'll call Bobby and tell him to find someone else."

"No, wait, Dad. Frankie doesn't live too far from here. I can stay there for a while, until you and Bobby are done." It all seemed so clear, so simple, so perfectly logical. Why didn't he think of this before?

"Who is Frankie?" Dad asked.

"Friend of mine," Dean said and could hear the slight slur to his words. "'m always welcome. Even have a key."

"We'll talk about it in the morning," Dad promised. "Let's get through tonight first."

* * *

Dean's ears still rang when Dad pulled up outside Frankie's house. Bobby parked the Impala in front of the house. His vision was still a little blurry, but at least he wasn't seeing triple or even double anymore.

"You sure this Frankie won't mind?" Dad asked again, peering through the windshield at the house.

"Nah, Frankie'll love it," Dean promised.

"Wait for me before you get out," Dad said, grabbing his shoulder. "I mean it, Dean."

"Yes, sir," Dean sighed. He wasn't an invalid. Hell, he wasn't even hurt that bad. It wasn't like they went to the hospital or anything. He did open his own door, however. Dad steadied him as he stepped out.

The nosey woman from next door hurried outside in her fuzzy slippers and pink bathrobe. "Dean!" she shouted, waving a hand in the air.

He turned slowly to face her. "Hey Miss Shelly," he said with a wave. Dad's hand tightened on his bicep. "How're you?"

"Fine, Dean!" she gushed. "Who did you bring with you?"

Dean stumbled a little, needing to pull Dad with him to talk to Miss Shelly. "This is my dad," he said proudly. Man, the light out here was really bright. He squinted and shaded his eyes with one hand. "Dad this is Miss Shelly, Frankie's neighbor."

"Ma'am," Dad said in his deep rumbling voice. Dean giggled. Miss Shelly didn't need to be impressed, she was probably already drooling over Dad. Dad shook her outstretched hand briefly. "Come on, Dean. Let's get you inside."

"Dean? Are you all right?" Miss Shelly called out, her fuzzy slippers making a shushing noise across the grass. "What's wrong?"

Dean turned in Dad's grip, grateful for Dad being there so he didn't fall. "Concussion," he called out over his shoulder. Dean fumbled with his pockets at the door, searching for his key. It was here someplace. Then he remembered, slapping himself in the forehead.

"Where are my car keys?" he demanded.

"Bobby!" Dad hollered. "Keys!"

The sound of keys being thrown and caught rang in Dean's ears. He was kind of starting to like the way sounds echoed in his head. He giggled again.

"Dean?" Dad whispered. "You okay?"

Dean nodded, stifling his giggles with one hand as he motioned for the keys. Dad handed them over. The one key not belonging to the Impala fit in the front door. Dean turned it and shoved the door open. He stepped carefully over the line of salt inside the door.

"Dean?" Miss Shelly asked again as they walked inside the house. Dean urged Dad to guide him over to the easy chair. "How did you get a concussion?"

Dean let Dad lower him into the chair, relaxing into the comfortable padded fabric. His ribs screamed with relief over not being in the truck any more. "What?" he asked a bleary version of Miss Shelly.

"Easy, son," Dad crooned. "I'll take care of it."

Dean allowed his eyes to close as Dad headed for Miss Shelly. Despite the fact he hated pain pills, hated the way they made his mouth feel and how they affected his head, Dad made taking them an order. So he did, every time Dad handed them over, which seemed to be often on the drive here. Those things made him sleepy, too, and he had been fighting sleep for the past couple of hours to make sure Dad brought him here. Now he gave in to it, allowing sleep to wash over him.

It was Frankie's voice that woke him. "Dean! You're here!"

Dean forced his eyes to open as Frankie burst through the front door. He grinned broadly at the sight of the big guy rushing inside, until Dad and Bobby blocked him.

"No!" Dean shouted, trying to get out of the damn chair. "It's okay!"

Dad gave him a worried look. "Easy, Dean. Don't get up." Dad took a step back, still positioned between Dean and Frankie. "You know this guy?"

"Sure," Dean said with a grin. "That's Frankie."

Dad paled and Bobby's head snapped to the side to look at him. "This is Frankie?" Bobby demanded.

"Well, yeah," Dean replied, not understanding the reaction. "What?"

"I...uh, I mean we thought..." Bobby stammered.

"Frankie's not a girl?" Dad demanded.

Dean waved a hand at the big guy. "Does he look like a girl?" He rolled his eyes. Duh!

"Uh, son, we need to talk," Dad said slowly, moving closer to Dean. He locked eyes with Dean. "Alone."

"Okay, Dad. Frankie, Dad and I need to borrow your room for a few minutes, okay?" Dean said as he lifted his arms. Dad pulled him to his feet.

"Uh, sure, Dean," Frankie replied, his path still blocked by Bobby.

Dean gave Bobby a shove in the shoulder as they passed. "Bobby, it's his house. Relax."

The bedroom wasn't far, so Dean didn't have much trouble. He sat on the bed while Dad paced in front of him. Finally Dad stopped and lifted his chin so he would have to look at Dad dead-on.

"Frankie is a guy," Dad said slowly. Dean nodded. "You've been here enough for the neighbors to know you."

Dean shrugged and nodded again. "Yeah. So?"

Dad swallowed hard. "What kind of relationship do you have with this Frankie?"

Dean grinned. "An awesome one."

Dad ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. "You know what I mean, Dean."

Dean grinned at Dad's discomfort. "He picked me up, Dad. Not the other way around. I swear." He held up one hand. He needed more than that. "And I was totally hammered." Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

Dad's eyes rolled upward and his mouth moved but no words came out. He waited until he could hear words again. "That doesn't explain why you wanted to come here," Dad said slowly.

Dean shrugged again. "I always come here between hunts," he said. "You know, when you don't have anything for me to do."

"Always?" Dad demanded in a harsh whisper. "Always?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded slowly. "Whenever I can. It's great here, Dad. Honest. And Frankie..." He gave a sharp whistle. "Damn, you wouldn't believe the sex I get."

Dad buried his face in both hands. "I don't want to know," his muffled voice said. "Please stop now."

"You asked," Dean said defensively.

Dad's hands dropped away and his face was kind of red. "I guess I did. Do me a favor, Dean? Don't answer any question I ask that leads to sex with Frankie, okay?"

"Okay," Dean replied earnestly.

"So why do you keep coming back here?" Dad asked.

Dean shook his head slowly from side to side. "Trick question, right? You just told me not to..."

"All right!" Dad said sharply, cutting him off. "Are you sure you'll be okay here? I don't feel right leaving you here like this."

Dean stared at Dad for a minute before asking, "But if he'd been a girl it would've been okay?" He ran a hand over his throbbing head. "Dad, I don't get it."

Dad sighed. "Yeah, I guess you don't. Never mind. Look, I'll go have a little talk with him and Bobby, then we'll decide if we're leaving you here. Okay?"

"I'm staying," Dean said firmly. "I don't give a shit what you and Bobby decide."

"Dean," Dad said firmly.

He sighed, dropping his aching head and neck in defeat. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Dean, I just want to do what's right. Look, I'll go talk to this Frankie guy and come back to discuss it with you, okay?"

Keeping his head down, Dean shrugged. Dad didn't need any kind of answer from him, the man always made up his own mind.

* * *

John headed to the den where Bobby still screened the guy Frankie off of Dean. John had to look up to look Frankie in the eye.

"So. You're Frankie." John cleared his throat.

"Frank," the large man corrected. He held out a hand. "It's good to finally meet you, Mister Winchester."

John eyed it uncertainly before shaking the massive paw. "This is Bobby," he said, introducing his most trusted friend.

"Good to meet you," Bobby said as he shook hands.

"How long have you known my son," John asked, emphasizing the last two words.

Frank rubbed his hands together. "About a year. Would either of you like a beer?"

"A year?" John demanded. "This has been going on for a year?"

Frank shrugged with a grin. "Best year of my life," he said shyly, looking far smaller than his actual stature.

John rolled his eyes, turning to confer with Bobby. But Bobby had an odd look on his face, like he thought it was nice or something. John thrust an elbow into Bobby's side. Bobby, without looking, returned it with an elbow of his own.

"I'll take that beer," Bobby said. "So will John."

John shot Bobby a hard look as Frank moved past them into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" John hissed.

"Hey, if Dean trusts him, he must be okay," Bobby whispered back. "Cut the kid some slack."

John glared at his friend. "Some slack? Are you serious?"

Bobby glared back. "Unless you're planning on alienating your other son?"

That was below the belt, but Bobby had a point.

"How did Dean react when you told him you'd think about whether or not to leave him here?" Bobby demanded in a harsh whisper.

"How could you..." John started to ask.

"I know you," Bobby interrupted. "And I know Dean. I'm telling you John, if you screw this up for him, he'll never forgive you. He'll do what you want, follow you like your trained attack dog, for a while. But he will never, ever forgive you. And if you keep beating even the best trained attack dog, he'll turn on you eventually."

Another low blow. John gritted his teeth. Bobby was right, he couldn't risk alienating Dean too. Sam leaving had shattered one of his basic foundations, leaving him only Dean to lean on. He had been leaning on Dean so long, it felt perfectly natural and normal. After Sam left, John had realized just how much he depended on his sons, and Dean in particular. He would do anything to prevent Dean leaving him too, maybe even putting up with this.

"Don't call him that," John growled.

"That's how the other hunters think of Dean," Bobby whispered in a threatening growl.

"I don't give a damn what they say," John snapped, looking Bobby in the eye. "You know better."

Bobby nodded slowly. "And you should, too."

Bobby was on a roll, John noted. "So you think we should just leave him here?" He motioned angrily around them. "With a concussion?"

"Now I didn't say that," Bobby said slowly. "Seems to me this Frank has plenty of bedrooms, and we won't have to leave here for a couple of days, at least."

John relaxed some at Bobby's suggestion. "So we hang out here for a while and check things out. If it seems okay, we leave him. If not, he goes with us."

Bobby gave him a curt nod before his eyes darted away and back. John turned in the direction Bobby's eyes had indicated. Frank stood in the kitchen doorway holding four beers. A fake smile plastered on his face, he stepped forward offering the beers. John wondered how much the kid overheard.

"Will Dean be joining us?" Frank asked as he held up the fourth beer.

John took it from him. "No alcohol. He has a concussion."

Frank's brow creased as his eyes darted to the bedroom door. "A concussion? Shouldn't he be in the hospital?" He stepped forward, the pleasant face turning angry. "Why are you here instead?"

"Frankie," Dean's warning voice came from the bedroom door, where he stood leaning against the doorframe. John knew the warning voice well, from Dean warning him or Sam to back off, not to argue. Too bad they were both so bad at paying attention to it.

Frank spun around. "If you have a concussion, you should be in the hospital," he repeated.

Dean grinned, the wide silly one he only had when he was overly medicated or concussed, or both. "But I wanted to come here." He stumbled slightly as he pushed off the doorframe. "Besides, I hate hospitals. And no yelling at my dad." Dean snorted a laugh. "Dad can seriously kick your ass."

Dean turned his bleary, concussed eyes on John as he jabbed toward Frank with his thumb. "He seriously sucks in a fight, Dad. It'd be funny if it weren't so sad."

Frank set his beer down to help Dean back to the easy chair. "Funny," Frank mumbled. "Embarrass me in front of your father?"

Dean waved it off. "Dude, you're a guy. You started off behind the eight ball, being bad in a fight won't hurt."

"He's right," John cut in, not wanting to be the center of an argument between them. "That part doesn't matter, not for this. If you can find a place for the three of us to spend the night, we'd appreciate it. Otherwise we'll rent a room."

Dean laughed, waggling a finger at John. "I've been banned," he chortled, clearly pleased with himself. He glanced up at Frank. "Well, we both have."

John held up both hands. "Really, I don't want to hear any more."

"Then you better go get that roo..."

One of Frank's hands slammed down on Dean's mouth as he smiled at John. "Of course you're welcome to stay here, sir. It'd be my pleasure. If you'll excuse me, I need to call my roommate." He leaned down to whisper in Dean's ear before leaving the room.

Dean made a sour face. He motioned to John. John leaned in close. "Am I embarrassing him?" he asked, motioning toward the kitchen where they could hear Frank calling someone.

John nodded. "Probably. You're embarrassing me."

"Damn it." He sighed heavily. "This it not how I wanted you two to meet."

John squatted by Dean's chair. "So you wanted me to meet, ah, Frankie?"

"Well sure," Dean said, his face so open and honest he looked years younger. "I like it when my family can get along."

John's breath caught in his chest as he stared over Dean's unprecedented honesty. And Dean thought of this Frank character as family. Oh, God. Now what? He couldn't just sanction this, but if he didn't, would he break Dean's heart? Again? Why the hell did he think coming here was a good idea?

"So do we," Bobby was saying. "Right, John?"

"Yeah," John breathed. He gripped Dean's shoulder, knowing it could take it. "We'll talk more tomorrow, son. Maybe you'll feel better by then."

"You do know I'm sleeping in there," Dean pointed out the bedroom he came out of. "I haven't seen Frankie in almost two months, and phone sex just isn't cutting it."

John ran a hand over his face again. He forgot how honest a concussed Dean could be. "Son, you have at least three cracked ribs, if they aren't broken. You need sleep, not sex."

"You recuperate your way," Dean replied with a straight face, "and I'll recuperate mine."

Bobby's laugh interrupted any response John might have had to that. "And here I thought Dean had no idea how to filter the thoughts coming out of his head." He laughed again. "Truth is, he has a damn good filter and it isn't working right now. Am I right?"

John stood up, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Bobby. You're right." He pointed down at Dean. "And you're taking it easy, whether you like it or not."

Dean gave him a nasty look. John chose to ignore it.

"All right," Frank announced as he walked out of the kitchen, "Steve will stay at my parents' house for as long as you're all here. You can split those rooms however you want." He motioned to the doors leading to two front bedrooms.

"Nope," Dean said stubbornly. "I know where I'm staying."

"Mister Winchester?" Frank asked. "Would you mind if I talked to Dean for a few minutes?"

John eyed the young man warily. He had a pretty good idea what Dean might try if he left the two of them alone, and Dean really did need time to recuperate.

"Sir, I swear, he won't leave the chair," Frank added in earnest. He glanced down at Dean's silly smile before returning a bright blue gaze to John. "I swear, sir, it would take more than ten minutes for us to even get started. I just want to talk to him."

Well, if they would be staying here for a few days, he really ought to cut their host a little slack. John leaned down and grabbed Dean gently by the jaw, forcing his son to look at him. "Behave," he ordered.

Dean nodded, his eyes straying back to the large man hovering over them. John jerked his head at Bobby. They headed for the front rooms, John wanting to appear to check out their accommodations. Really, he planned to leave the door open a crack and listen in.

"What are you doin'?" Bobby hissed when John pulled the bedroom door to, but not closed.

"Sshhh!" John waved his friend off.

Bobby rolled his eyes as he stood there, arms crossed over his chest, looking highly disapproving.

"Don't even start, Frankie," Dean warned. There was a stretch of silence as John strained to hear conversation. "No. Just...no!" Still Frankie hadn't said anything. "Stop that. It isn't going to work."

What wouldn't work? John cracked the door open a little more. Now he could just make out Dean stretched out in the easy chair, with the footrest up. Frankie knelt beside the chair, but John still couldn't hear him speaking. Maybe Frankie was whispering? Afraid of being overheard? If so, the kid was brighter than John had given him credit for.

Dean let out a moan. Shit, maybe he needed more pain pills. John reached for the bottle in his pocket as Bobby shoved him aside for a look, the hypocrite.

"I don't think he needs those," Bobby whispered. He motioned to the crack again, moving aside so John could see.

John peered out again. What he thought was Frankie whispering in Dean's ear wasn't whispering. He very nearly yanked the door wide open at the sight of some strange man kissing on his son's neck like that! Bobby grabbed his arm, pulling him away with a hand over his mouth.

Dean's moan reached them both, followed by a long sighing, "Yes, dear."

"Sound to me," Bobby whispered, "like Dean's going to sleep where you want him to."

Crap. Just when John was starting to really dislike this Frankie character, too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8** - _Okay, a dive back into the gutter at the end of this chapter and some schmoop. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank those of you bold enough to review. For the rest of you, I do accept anonymous reviews too! (And to you lurkers - Welcome to my gutter!!)_

John woke to the smells of coffee and bacon. That was more than enough incentive to get out of bed this morning. He rolled out, noticing the other side, where Dean slept last night, was mussed and empty. He put a hand over it and the sheets still felt warm. Thank god.

After splashing some water on his face and running a toothbrush over teeth fuzzy with sleep, John headed for the kitchen. Deep snores still came from Bobby's room, but the other hunter had been on the road for a couple of days, he probably needed the extra rest. John found Dean sitting in one of those roller office chairs at the breakfast table, a broad grin on his face. Frank sat across from him in a straight-backed wooden chair. They each had a coffee mug and there was a small plate of bacon in the center of the table.

"Just bacon?" John asked conversationally as he headed for the coffee pot. Two empty mugs waited beside it. "Can I whip up some eggs to go with them?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Actually, Dad, we're going out for brunch."

John eyed his son. Dean's eyes were clearer this morning; hopefully most of the effects of the concussion had worn off. About damn time. He preferred a Dean who could filter his thoughts over concussed Dean any day, even if it meant hearing white lies that let him sleep at night.

"Really?" he asked. "Where are we going?"

A look passed between Dean and Frank. John watched and waited with the distinct feeling there was more to this than food.

"My parents always have Dean over for brunch when he comes into town," Frank said calmly, clear unwavering blues eyes meeting John's gaze. The kid kept going up a notch in John's estimation. "Of course, they'd love to meet Bobby and especially you, sir."

Brown-nosing the father. Yeah, the kid definitely wasn't stupid.

"A year, huh?" he asked, his eyes darting between the two young men. Frank did not react, but Dean looked nervous as he nodded. "Then I guess it's high time to meet."

"Great." Frank stood. "I'll go call them from the bedroom, so they know how many to expect." His gaze rested on Dean. "You sure you're up for this? How's the head?"

Dean waved him off. "I'm fine. Go call."

John took a seat next to Dean. "Nice chair."

Dean stared at his coffee mug, fingers tracing the handle. It looked different from the others. John reached out and turned it around. His name was imprinted on it in large bold letters.

"Don't say it," Dean whispered, head drooping.

John cleared his throat, his discomfort hanging about him like clingy wet clothes. "So. How long have you been wanting me to meet Frank?"

Dean sighed with a shrug. "A while. I just didn't want you mad at me." Without lifting his head, he waved a hand in the direction Frank went. "You know, since he's a guy."

"And judging by the large heart on your mug, the scented soaps and ruffled curtains in the bathroom, can I safely assume he's a gay guy?" John asked as pleasantly as he could.

Dean rolled his eyes. "If you think that's bad, you should see our bathroom."

John nearly asked about the 'our', but he really didn't want to know right now. Dean's head lifted and he met John's gaze. "I wasn't kidding when I told you he picked me up. I swear, Dad. I didn't go looking for this."

"And what is this, Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean sighed and shrugged again, leaning back in the cushioned chair with his coffee. John decided to try a safer topic. "What's with the chair?"

Dean ran his free hand over the arm. "Frankie bought it so I wouldn't have to sit in those damn things," he wrinkled his nose at the hard kitchen chairs, "if I don't feel up to it."

Even with all the revelations in the past twenty four hours, this was surprising. "You've come here hurt before?" John flashed back to when they first arrived, stepping over the salt line to come inside. "He knows, doesn't he?"

Dean winced. He broke John's number one rule: Do what we do and shut up about it. He considered giving Dean a thorough chewing out, but his son looked so weary and something he couldn't quite put a finger on. John didn't have the heart to do it. He just nodded as he drank the coffee, which was quite good. It had to be some fresh ground gourmet blend or something of the sort, but it was really good.

Frank returned. "All set. They'll be expecting us in about half an hour." He walked behind Dean, one hand trailed over Dean's shoulders as the other took Dean's empty mug. Frank filled it up and returned it to the table without being asked.

"I need to change," Frank announced, clearly uncomfortable with the silence in the kitchen.

"You make him nervous," Dean said, sipping his coffee.

"Good."

* * *

Frank's parents lived in a modest house on the other side of town, which was only a ten minute drive from Frank's. Bushes spanned the front of the house and ivy struggled to grow between the center windows. A few ambitious strands had tried growing up the far left side, their scorched and withered remains a testimony to their failed optimism.

"Oh," Frank said as Dean stepped out of the car, "I almost forgot." He dug something out of his pocket and tossed it to Dean. Dean caught it one-handed.

"Right," Dean said with a smirk as he slipped the item on his thumb.

Curious, John checked out the item in question. It was a silver thumb ring. He paid attention to Frank's hands now too, wondering if the young man wore anything similar. He did, but it was a plain silver band on the ring finger of his left hand. John stumbled with the realization, and it was Bobby who caught him.

"What's wrong with you?" Bobby hissed in his ear. John shook his head. Now was not the time or place to get into this.

Frank's parents greeted them at the front door. Both were large, hearty people. His mother was nearly as tall as John and she hovered over Dean, complaining about how thin he looked. His father was just as tall as Frank, wider but not as well defined. They both sported dark hair, blue eyes, and just too much friendliness for their own damn good. John felt like visiting royalty after he was introduced and ushered inside.

"Mister Winchester," Frank's mother gushed, "you have no idea how long we've been waiting to meet you! What a shame your work keeps you on the road all the time, what with all those wild animals."

John arched an eyebrow in Dean's direction as the woman wrapped her arms around his son. Too late, he realized what she intended to do and Dean hissed in pain as John grabbed one of her arms.

"Dean? What is it?" she asked in a motherly voice. "Honey, are you hurt?"

Frank was at Dean's side, John didn't even notice when he moved there. "It's his ribs, Mom," Frank said, steadying Dean on the other side. "They were trying to relocate a bear this time, when it went after Dean." He motioned at John. "Mister Winchester barely got it in time."

"Oh, dear," she said, one hand over her mouth. "Were you able to tranquilize it, or did you have to put it down?"

"I take care of anything that hurts my son," he replied sincerely. "John Winchester. Nice to meet you." John held out his hand now that Dean could stand on his own and was breathing okay.

"Oh." She turned those clear blue eyes on him. "Where are my manners? Anna Warren." Frank's mother shook his hand briefly to return her attention to Dean. "You come sit right down. We'll just eat in the den so you can use the couch, Dean. How about if I fix you a plate?"

Frank's father approached with an outstretched hand. "George Warren," he said, grasping John's hand in a firm grip. "Never mind Anna. She has a soft spot when it comes to Dean." He smiled broadly. "Probably because her car has never run better," he called out, pitching his voice toward the den.

"Oh, George!" Anna laughed as she made for the kitchen.

John had a pleasant meal with Frank and his parents. He still didn't know what to make of the situation, though. Dean fit in so well here, it was frightening. Then again, Dean had the rare ability of appearing to fit in anyplace he went. Here, though, Dean really looked comfortable in his own skin. John said his goodbyes to the parents before following Bobby out to the car.

"What do you think?" he whispered.

Bobby shrugged. "Could do a helluva lot worse." He motioned to the house. "Seems like good people."

"Yeah," John sighed, leaning against Frank's sedan. "I was thinking the same thing."

He let Dean ride up front this time, with Frank. The ten minute ride gave him time to think a few things through. Back at Frank's house, John pulled the keys to his truck out of his pocket as he grabbed Dean by the arm.

"Dean, I want to take a ride. Why don't you come show me the sights?" he suggested, pulling Dean toward the truck.

"Sir?" Dean's face fell as he realized what John probably wanted to talk about. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

John shouted at Frank, "Hey, Dean's taking a drive with me. We'll be back in a bit!"

Frank waved, though he might have looked concerned. Bobby shot John a long, probing look which he refused to return. What he planned to talk to Dean about, John had no intention of discussing with Bobby. Ever.

He waited for Dean to climb into the passenger seat slowly and close the door before starting the engine. "So? Any sights in this town?"

Dean sighed as he rested against the door. "There are a few ponds," he said slowly. "One of 'em is supposed to have ducks."

"Which way to the park?" John asked. Dean gave directions in a firm but nonchallenging voice. John pulled into a shady lane, trees blocking the direct sun from the truck.

He sat still for a few moments, trying to work up his nerve and wondering why he was doing this in the first place.

"That's a nice ring," he finally said, deciding just to get to the heart of the matter. "Mind if I see it?"

Dean pulled it off slowly before handing it over, watching John curiously. John rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, studying it carefully.

"Some rings are just decoration and you wear them for show. Other rings have meaning." He handed it back over. "Rings that have meaning deserve to be worn only if you mean it." John twisted the wedding band on his left hand. "Don't wear it unless you mean it, Dean. It isn't fair to you," John turned to face the windshield so he wouldn't have to look at his son, "or to him."

He drove through the park, neither of them saying anything. When John pulled into Frank's driveway, Dean did not get out of the truck right away.

"Dad?" he asked slowly, lifting his head to really look at John. "If...uh...If I did want to wear a ring that had meaning, would you be okay with that?"

Eyes so open and honest, far beyond what John expected to see from his normally emotionally walled-off son, bore into him. Permission. Or maybe his blessing. That's what Dean was asking for. Shit. He didn't want this, not really. But this wasn't about him, it was about Dean. Would he prefer Dean continue living a double life, hiding each side from the other?

No.

Sam was the one who was hiding out these days, he didn't want it from Dean too. Anything but that. He couldn't stand losing them both.

His throat felt tight, the words didn't want to come out but John managed to choke them out. "Well, I'm not saying I'm thrilled with the idea, but yeah." John turned to look at Dean, really look at him. "I can be okay with that, if it's what you want. But it has to be what you want."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay, Dad. I get it." He slipped the ring into his pocket. John gave him a questioning look. "I need to think it over. It's, you know, kind of serious."

John smiled as he grasped Dean's shoulder. "Good answer. C'mon. I wonder what embarrassing story Bobby's telling right now."

Dean groaned as he stepped out of the truck. "It better not be the naked Sam story. I am so sick of him telling everybody who'll listen that one."

"Oh, come on, son." John ran an arm over his son's shoulders. "There must be three or four bars that haven't heard it yet. At least."

Dean's shoulders shook with his chuckle as they approached the house.

* * *

Dean watched the black truck pull out of the drive. He waved as Dad and Bobby turned the corner, off on a hunt they wouldn't even talk about in front of him. Probably afraid he'd want to go.

Ha.

Alone at last!

A large hand rested on his bicep, a weight falling across his shoulders as Frankie put an arm around him. Frankie was on his right, so Dean was able to lean into him as they headed back to the house. Frankie closed the door behind them softly.

"I like them," he said as those big hands ran over his back.

Dean turned to face him. "I want to, uh, talk to you." One hand dug the ring out of his pocket, where he had kept it close at hand ever since the weird talk with Dad. "About this."

Frankie frowned and took a step back, shaking his head. "We've talked about this, Dean. You know I don't expect you to wear it, just in front of my parents."

"Wait, wait." Dean took a deep breath as he held it out. "Ask me."

Frankie looked really confused as he took the ring. "Ask you what?"

"If I want to wear it. You know, all the time." Dean swallowed hard, his mouth dry and his hands starting to shake.

"Really?" Those amazing eyes widened until Dean thought he could be lost forever in the blue.

"Ask me," he repeated in a hoarse voice.

Frankie stepped closer, until Dean could feel the tremble in the larger man's body, similar to his own. "I want you to be with just me," he said in a low voice. "Exclusive. Always."

Dean heard the raw need in Frankie's voice, saw the desire in his eyes. His mouth couldn't form the words and his throat was too dry to even squeak, so Dean nodded once. Frankie slipped the ring over his thumb, a strange place for this kind of ring, but it seemed to fit them. His huge hands cradled Dean's face and Frankie laid a long, lingering, searing kiss on him, only breaking away when they needed to breathe.

"I've been wanting to do that since you got here," he said.

Dean smiled. "There are other things I've been wanting to do."

Frankie frowned. "What about your ribs?"

Dean ran a hand under Frankie's shirt, felt the sculpted muscles there and a thrill ran through him as he thought 'mine.' "We'll be careful," he whispered as he leaned up for another kiss. "Besides, isn't it kind of traditional?"

Frankie's light laugh washed over him. "Nut," he said affectionately. "Okay, but I call the shots."

Dean grinned as he pulled Frankie toward the bedroom. Hell, over half the time it was Frankie calling the shots anyway, so no problem there. Big fingers might suck at working buttons, but they could be soft and gentle. Dean was naked and laid out on the bed in no time. He watched Frankie shed his clothes, the whole time thinking they would still be doing this a year, two years, ten years from now. God, just thinking about it sent blood rushing below his waist.

Frankie crawled over him, careful not to put any weight on his chest. Dean tried wrapping his legs around Frankie's waist, but it jostled his ribs.

"Easy, babe," Frankie whispered, stroking his face. "Relax. I got ya."

Dean stretched out, spreading his legs wide. Frankie slipped inside, moving slowly in and out of him. He wanted to participate more but Frankie wouldn't let him, chiding him for moving too much. His lover did all the work while Dean laid there, enjoying the attention. Frankie leaned slightly on Dean's right side, propped up using his right forearm. His other hand gripped Dean's left hip, pinning him to the mattress so Dean would be unable to use his injured side.

There would be bruises on his hip come morning and Frankie would feel so guilty, but Dean didn't care. He planned to ask for a matching set for the other hip before he left, which Frankie no doubt would laugh off.

Frankie took his time, a steady even rhythm punctuated with warm kisses down his neck. Dean ran his hands across Frankie's back, fingertips outlining the hard muscles and stroking gently down.

After a while, Frankie whispered, "Don't move."

Dean nodded, his breathing heavy. Frankie's hand stroked his hair, wound down the side of his face and trailed lightly down the center of his chest. The thrusts paused as Frankie lifted up more, making room for his hand between them. Dean gasped as the large warm hand wrapped around his cock.

"Don't move," Frankie repeated as he bowed his back, bringing his head closer to Dean's. Dean shook his head, the hand matching Frankie's nice even rhythm. Sweat trickled down the center of Frankie's chest, sporadic drops dripping on Dean's stomach, blending into his slick skin. Tongue invaded his mouth and Dean responded, nibbling on Frankie's tongue when he could, losing himself in feeling and sensations. He broke away, unable to breathe. Panting hard and heavy, he wanted to move, needed more. His fingertips dug into Frankie's shoulder and back, trying to find a way to get what he needed.

"Easy," Frankie panted, "almost there."

Frankie sped up then, thrusting quicker and harder, his hand gripped tighter and matched the thrusts. God, yes! Now he knew those moans were his, the ones he had been denying for nearly a year now. Fortunately the part of his brain which still knew he was hurt prevented him from wrapping both legs around Frankie or flipping the big guy over. Instead he panted and moaned, his hands grasping Frankie's ass, forcing the harder thrusts. Frankie's hand moved back out, pressing down on Dean's hip with crushing force. He lifted up, all his weight on his forearm and Dean's hip, to slam home harder and faster until the deep feeling welled up and out.

"That's it," Frankie's voice said from someplace far away. Now he felt the hand back on his cock, pumping hard. That plus the warm mouth on his neck, just below his ear, and the slow slip-side inside him had Dean coming again with a loud cry. Frankie's hips jerked, causing Dean's eyes to open. He was making the face which meant he was close. Dean grabbed his ass again, forcing him deep inside. Frankie fell forward, catching himself on the mattress with both hands before he could land on Dean. Dean yanked Frankie's hips again, propelling him deep within. Frankie gasped, pulsing inside Dean. When he was done, Frankie pulled out slowly to lay beside Dean.

"Good?" Frankie asked in a breathless voice.

"Jesus," Dean groaned, looking at him. "You really have to ask?"

Frankie shrugged. "I like to hear it."

"Amazing, earth-shattering, mind-blow-"

Frankie's mouth crashed into his, effectively silencing his rant. Frankie finally broke away with a huge grin. "You are a nut. You know that."

"I can't help it. You've ruined me for life," Dean replied. "Women just can't measure up anymore."

Frankie's grin broadened. "Now that's what I like to hear." He rubbed the silver ring on Dean's thumb. "That you're all mine."

Dean ran a hand through Frankie's dark curls. "Yeah," he whispered.

Frankie kissed him again, soft and tender this time. "I'm glad you decided to wear it," he said in Dean's ear. "Because I've been yours since we met."

Dean could see the truth of it in Frankie's eyes, those amazing eyes. Had he not noticed it before? Was he so cold? Or was it just that difficult to believe in something so good happening to him?

Frankie snuggled up on Dean's good side, his head resting on the unhurt shoulder. Dean allowed his eyes to slip shut, confident Frankie had the salt lines in place and the roommate wouldn't be back until this evening.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9** - _Thanks for the kind reviews, my gutter-neighbors. Thanks for coming to play in my gutter! (Anon reviews allowed always - don't be shy!)_

_**Two Years Later...**_

Dean pushed the egg around on his plate, unable to force himself to eat it. He felt Frankie's eyes on him, but decided if he ignored it, it might go away.

"So you still haven't heard from your dad?" Frankie asked in his gentle voice. So much for 'it' going away. Dean shook his head.

"It isn't the first time he's been out of contact," Frankie pointed out.

"He's on a hunt," Dean replied, trailing a design through his egg. "Dad's never out of touch this long on a hunt. I don't like it."

"Well...you could use it to your advantage."

Dean's eyes snapped up. "What do you mean?"

Frankie leaned on the table, twirling his coffee mug between those huge hands. "Well, it just occurred to me, if you're worried about your dad disappearing, your brother might be worried too."

Dean snorted at Frankie. "He'd have to know about it first."

Frankie nodded slowly. "That's why you should go tell him. And ask Sam to help you look for your dad."

He shoved his plate away as his stomach lurched dangerously. "You've got to be kidding. Sam would probably slam the door in my face." Dean glared at Frankie. "Especially since I want to look for Dad."

Frankie took a long sip of coffee. "It's been what? Almost four years? Things change. Maybe Sam has, too." When Frankie leveled those blue eyes on Dean, he knew he was going to cave. "At least give him a chance, Dean. It's only a side-trip anyway."

"What's only a side-trip?" Dean asked carefully.

"Stanford." Frankie's head tilted to one side. "You are planning to look for your dad anyway, right?"

He sighed. "Am I that obvious?"

Frankie ran a hand over his shoulder and up his neck. "Yeah, you are." He got a warm kiss on the cheek. "And you're gorgeous too."

This sounded promising. "Gorgeous, huh?" Dean grinned. He ran a hand up Frankie's thigh as he pressed his lips against his lover's jaw. "So you're okay with this?"

"This?" Frankie asked, one hand gripping the back of Dean's head.

Dean suckled along Frankie's jaw and halfway down his neck before replying, "Leaving."

Frankie was breathing heavier and leaning towards him. "Gotta work," he said softly.

"Shit," Steve snapped from the kitchen doorway. "Can't you two keep it in the bedroom?"

Frankie sighed as he shifted away. "Dean's leaving soon." Those striking blue eyes met Dean's. "Tomorrow?"

Dean nodded, agreeing to stay the day.

"Your dad call with a new job?" Steve asked as he grabbed a clean coffee mug.

"No." Dean cleared his throat. "I haven't heard from him. That's why I'm going."

Steve spun around. He hesitated before sitting at the table. "You don't think he's..." his voice trailed off.

"He's fine," Dean snapped, eyes boring into Steve. "I just haven't heard from him."

"He could be stuck outside of cell coverage on a job," Frankie cut in. "Dean's planning to head for the wilderness park where John was working and track him, to be sure he doesn't need help."

Steve nodded quickly. "Sounds good. I'd do the same thing."

Dean had a few replies for that too, but Frankie's hand found his knee and squeezed. "You're working today, right?" he asked instead.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Like I'd be anywhere within a ten mile radius of this house today. Don't worry about me. I'm out of here right after breakfast."

Steve took another sip of coffee. Dean waited, but he didn't make a move from the table. "I don't see you eating."

Steve's eyes widened as his mug lowered. His eyes darted over to Frankie briefly. "You know," he said as he stood up, "I'm not all that hungry. I think I'll just take my coffee and go. Someplace." He rushed out of the kitchen.

"It's a good thing I like him," Dean said as he turned back to face Frankie.

"Could have fooled me," Frankie said with a chuckle.

"He's still breathing, isn't he?" Dean leaned over to resume his interrupted task, laying a wet trail on warm skin.

"Good point," Frankie breathed out. "Is he gone yet?"

Dean paused to listen. He heard Steve's car door slam followed by the Civic starting. "Yeah, he's gone." He returned to his duties.

"All day?" Frankie asked plaintively.

Dean glanced up with his best smirk. "Better believe it. Don't know how long this is going to take."

He worked Frankie's buttons open as he kissed and suckled his way down, taking his time, enjoying this while he could. He pushed his worries over Dad, and anxiety over how Sam would react to seeing him again, to the back of his mind. The shirt open, Dean ran his hands over the broad chest, admiring the definition and enjoying the skin under his hands. He pushed the shirt off Frankie's shoulders as he straddled his lover's lap.

"What's first?" he asked, grinding down on Frankie's hard crotch. "Here? Bedroom? Shower?"

Frankie grinned his huge smile and his sparkling blue eyes smiled with him. "You know, it's been a long time since you stripped for me."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Always trying to embarrass me, aren't you?"

"C'mon, Dean." Frankie nibbled under his jaw, working along toward his ear. "You might be gone for a while. I'll need some fresh phone material."

Dean groaned under the sweet assault. "Fine, but we're doing it my way this time," he said as he stood up.

Frankie followed him into the den. "But you always use your music."

"Don't sit down!" Dean barked without turning around as he focused on the cassette player. Thanks to Frankie's outdated stereo system, he had doubled his car tape collection. Now Bad Company's _Feel Like Making Love_ poured into the room. Dean's idea of stripping was to strip Frankie first. He peeled off the open shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch. Frankie's pants followed. He took his time with the underwear, sliding them over wide firm hips, then down toned muscular legs. Without warning, Dean sprang to his feet and shoved Frankie into the couch. Frankie landed with legs sprawled and a shocked look.

Dean grinned as he slipped his shirt off over his head. By the time he could see Frankie again, the big guy had a pleased grin and eyes only for Dean, which was how it was supposed to be. He shimmied out of his pants and shorts at the same time, singing along with the chorus. Frankie's cock stood at attention, curving slightly toward his firm stomach. The song ended with Dean still moving to the music, putting himself on display for Frankie.

He rushed over to run the tape back, starting the song over again.

"Now for the fun part," Dean announced. "Ready?"

"Always," Frankie said, running those huge hands up Dean's hips. Dean straddled him, lowered himself slowly until Frankie was halfway in. Then he sank down all the way, capturing Frankie's mouth with his. Frankie shifted down on the sofa until Dean could ride him effectively. Hands on Frankie's shoulders Dean still moved in sync with the song, singing the lyrics until Frankie shut him up with one of his world-stopping kisses.

Next thing he knew, one of Frankie's big hands was on his cock while the other was on his ass encouraging him to keep moving. Dean thrust up into Frankie's hand then back down on Frankie. Damn, life just didn't get better than this. When Dean was panting pretty well, Frankie wrapped his arms behind his back, holding him down by the shoulders. Frankie rocked them back and forth. Dean joined the rocking and relished the pleasure coming over him. He felt the orgasm building and Dean pressed his forehead against Frankie's shoulder, rocking them faster and faster. Frankie's hands gripped his ass, holding him tight as it built higher and higher, they rocked harder and faster.

He couldn't see or think, just cling tighter as they rocked. Next thing he knew, he was on his back while Frankie pumped into him. Both legs wrapped around Frankie's back, slick with sweat. Dean met Frankie's thrusts as his hands tried to find some place to hang onto on the slick skin.

"You're there, babe," Frankie panted next to his ear. "Let go."

The feeling washed over him, filling his senses with just Frankie. His insides pulsed and Frankie was making those funny faces. He grabbed Frankie's head, pulled him down to attack his mouth while digging his heels into Frankie's hard ass, forcing him to reach climax. Frankie moaned into his mouth as he drained the penis inside him. Their mouths broke apart with a sigh of contentment. Frankie spread out over him, burying his face in Dean's neck.

"I miss you when you're gone," he mumbled into Dean's skin.

"Yeah," Dean said, running his fingers through Frankie's curly hair, pushing it back from his sweaty forehead. "Me too."

Frankie looked up at him. "Dean, I have a bad feeling about this."

That one twisted in Dean's gut. He forced a smile on his face. "You're always coming up with a reason for me to stay."

Frankie glared. "No I'm not. I just don't feel good about this." He reached up to stroke Dean's cheek. "Promise me one thing?"

The last time Frankie asked for a promise Dean wound up explaining what he and Dad did. Dean swallowed hard before nodding. "Anything."

"If Sam won't go with you, you come home." He lifted up to stare Dean in the eye. "Promise me."

"Why?" This one didn't make any sense to him at all.

Frankie wet his lips before answering. "John raised both of you, so I know Sam can watch your back." Those thick, almost clumsy fingers gently rubbed his cheek. "Promise."

Dean sighed, looking up into Frankie's earnest eyes. "That's why you want me to make the side-trip. You had this all worked out, huh?"

Frankie didn't shrug or make any movement to distract from Dean's answer, he just kept staring.

"Okay," Dean said. Frankie's face relaxed. "I promise, but only because you're such a nag." He grinned through his guilt, because this was one promise he knew he couldn't keep. The chances of Sam coming along to look for Dad were slim, at best, and Dean wasn't going to blow off the search because of Frankie's 'feeling.' He needed to make sure they had a real good time in the shower later, to make up for his little white lie.

* * *

Dean tossed his duffel in the backseat then leaned against the side of his car. He noticed a couple of the neighbors standing outside. The Impala parked on the street instead of in the garage could only mean one thing: he had a job.

Frankie came out of the house with a grocery bag of snacks for the road. Dean grinned at their odd routine, how Frankie always sent him off with provisions. When Frankie pinned him against the car with a bruising kiss, Dean tried not to act as surprised as he felt. Normally Frankie just used one of his famous world-stopping kisses to try to convince him to stay. This felt more like a desperate plea to come back.

When they broke apart, Frankie wrapped one hand around his shoulder and the other palm pressed against his cheek. "Don't you dare forget that promise."

Not a desperate plea, more like a demand, then. Dean caught his breath before offering one of their usual good-bye kisses.

He pulled away, cradling Frankie's face in his hands. "I'm coming back," he promised. "Don't think I won't." Dean held up his silver ring. "Yours. Remember?"

"You better." Frankie swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing rapidly, before standing out of the way on the lawn. "And you better call every damn Sunday!" he shouted over the engine noise of the Impala.

Dean smiled broadly as he waved. When he drove out of the neighborhood, he had the eerie feeling he wouldn't be back here for a while.

* * *

Dean watched Sam go back into his Stanford apartment building with a sinking feeling. Up to now, he hadn't lied to Frankie. When he told Sam he could look for Dad on his own but he didn't want to, Frankie had been the real reason. But now, now he didn't have a choice. Dean pulled away from the curb, idly checking his watch. As he maneuvered through the sleepy university town, he wondered if Frankie might still be up. He checked the time again. It hadn't changed. Dean shifted his eyes from the road to his watch several times, but the time was frozen. Yeah, not good.

The Impala swung around in the street, roaring back to Sam's. Dean slammed to a stop, barely taking the time to throw her in park before racing for Sam's apartment building. He smelled smoke when he kicked in the front door. Heat was already building in the hall leading to the bedroom, where Sam's screams of terror came from. He glanced up to see Sam's girlfriend pinned to the ceiling, her horror a deathmask as flames devoured her body. She could have been dead for hours. There was no choice but to physically force Sam outside. Dean had to sit on his little brother to keep him from going back inside, until the fire department arrived.

The paramedics insisted on giving them both oxygen before allowing them to go, but Dean managed to slip Sam past the authorities. He didn't like the look on Sam's face when little brother declared they had work to do. It sounded so...cold.

Not daring to leave Sam alone, not even long enough for a trip to buy a few clothes, Dean headed for a motel. He checked them in using his latest scammed card. Sweat, smoke and ash clung to them. Dean figured Sam could use one of his shirts and at least his sweatpants until they could hit a store tomorrow. They didn't shower right away, though. Inside the room each of them just sat on a bed, lost in his own thoughts.

Sam's girlfriend died exactly the same way Dad had always described Mom's death. What was going on? Was this thing, whatever it was, stalking their family? First Mom, then Jessica. Who next? There weren't any more women, unless that wasn't the connection. It could be...

A cold hand gripped his heart with icy fingers. Dean couldn't swallow, his throat had gone bone dry. One hand reached into his pocket, clutching his cell phone tightly.

"Shower." He stood up, towering over the figure of his shell-shocked brother. "Sam, you first. Get your ass in there."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam murmured. "You go ahead."

With his free hand, Dean picked up his duffel and threw it in Sam's lap. "Find something in there that'll fit you. I'll buy you some clothes in the morning." He jerked his head at the small bathroom. "Move!"

Sam stood, no recognition in his face, moving on automatic. That was fine with Dean, for now. He needed Sam in that bathroom with the water running. The instant the water started, Dean slipped outside. With trembling fingers, he hit number one on his speed-dial. It rang until the answering machine picked up. Panicked, Dean had to call twice more before a man's voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Frankie?" Dean slumped against the wall of the motel in his relief. "Are you okay?"

"Okay?" There was a pause. "Yeah, I'm okay." He sounded a little more awake now. "You were supposed to call about six hours ago, babe. What the hell happened?"

He slid down to the cold concrete sidewalk surrounding the building, phone pressed tightly against his ear. "Go double the salt lines."

"What?" Now Frankie sounded worried. "Dean, what are you talking about?"

"Just do it, Frankie," Dean said in a weary voice. "And after you double them, I want you to pour a line of salt around all the walls in our room."

"Only if you talk to me while I do it," Frankie replied. Dean could hear him moving around, hopefully doing as he asked. "Talk, Dean. Did Sam go with you?"

"Yeah." Dean sighed as the events of the evening replayed in his mind's eye. "I was planning to call you after I dropped Sam off. It was kind of late, but I didn't think you'd mind."

"You know I wouldn't," Frankie confirmed. "So you just dropped him off? Does that mean you're headed home?"

"No." Dean stared out at the night, trying not to imagine Frankie on the ceiling of their bedroom. "How're you coming with the salt?"

"I'm doing the walls now," Frankie replied. "I figured I'd start there, since you sound kind of worked up. Keep talking."

"His girlfriend's dead." Dean swallowed with his dry mouth again.

Even though it was dead silent on the other end, he knew Frankie heard him. "What was it?"

"The same thing that killed our mom," Dean replied weakly.

"You mean on the ceiling, fire, the whole bit?" he asked slowly.

Sam and Jess had been together for about the same amount of time he and Frankie had. That was when it hit Dean, how he would feel in Sam's place, the force of that kind of devastation. All the air drained from his lungs, forcing him to gasp for breath.

"Yeah," he managed to breathe out, tears rolling unbidden down his face.

"Babe," Frankie said gently, "I'm still here. I'm doubling all the salt lines and I've lined our room."

Dean rubbed a weary hand over his wet face. "Double it."

"Dean, if you need to bring Sam back here..." Frankie's voice trailed off.

"He wants to find Dad," Dean admitted. "Find Dad, figure out what killed his girlfriend, and go kill it."

"He said that?" Frankie demanded.

"Yeah, he said that." Dean rubbed his face again, but it was still wet. When he looked at his hand in the outdoor lighting, it was dark with ash and soot which clung stubbornly to his skin in murky wet streaks. Great, he could just imagine the mess his face must look. Sam might figure out what he'd been doing out here, well, at least part of it. "I need to go back inside soon. Sam's taking a shower."

He knew what the sigh meant, Frankie was disappointed in him for not telling Sam about them. Well, hell, how could he possibly have done that? When was he supposed to do that? When the woman in white had been trying to rip Sam's heart out, or after his girlfriend was toasted on the ceiling? He couldn't do it now, not after Sam had lost so much. It would be like rubbing salt in his wounds.

"Babe, promise me just one thing. And I mean this Dean, I really want you to do this," Frankie stated and Dean had never heard him more serious.

"What?" Dean didn't know how much more he could take tonight. Too much had happened, too much too fast.

"Don't take my ring off."

Dean closed his eyes as a fresh wave of emotions surged through him. Even now, or maybe especially now, Frankie wanted him. "Yes, dear," he promised, and he meant it.

"Call me next week, babe. I've been working on some new material," he said gently. "Now go take care of your little brother."

"Frankie?" He put his free arm on his knees, pressed his forehead against it so his face would be hidden from view. Now the tears flowed freely, his fears betraying him in private. "I.. I..."

He'd never said it, those three words. Most couples could say them. What if Frankie never heard them, what if he...

"I know, babe. I love you, too. Now you better go before Sam comes looking for you."

"Next week," Dean promised before closing his cell phone. He allowed himself just five more seconds before angrily rubbing his face with both hands and his denim-clad knees. They smelled of smoke and death, too. He really needed a shower.

Dean paused before reentering their motel room. He couldn't hear the shower, so he hoped that meant Sam was done. He pushed open the door quickly, making a bee-line for the bathroom.

"Where'd you go?" Sam asked in a cold, emotionless voice.

"Had to check on something in the car," Dean called out without turning around, a cold shiver running up his spine. "There damn well better be some soap left." He shut himself inside, not daring to look at himself in the mirror.

He was really glad he and Frankie had that day together before he left this time, because he didn't know when he'd be able to find an excuse to slip off for a few days. Not with Sam around. Sam was a freaking bloodhound when it came to secrets, and Dean didn't want his little brother discovering this one on his own.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **-_ 'come for the smut, stay for the plot' Should that be my tagline? LOL As always, anon reviews are warmly welcome! Come, play in the gutter!!_

Dean was weird. Sam knew that, had known it all his life, but things lately had gotten weird even for them.

It started almost immediately after they hit the road together. Sam knew, intellectually, that Dean had spent a good deal of the time he had been in college alone. He didn't really want to believe that, so he kept shoving it to the back of his mind. However, Sam suspected that his brother got a little, well, strange, in that time.

After they faced the Wendigo, and Sam was still patting himself on the back for thinking of the flares, he and Dean drove as long as they could keep their eyes open before Dean pulled into a motel. He checked them in while Sam grabbed both duffels and the large first aid kit. Dean jumped straight in the shower and didn't take forever.

When he came out, he ordered Sam in and to scrub up. Dean looked worse than Sam expected with the bandage off. Those gashes on his neck would probably have given the night clerk a fright. Sam rushed through his shower, wanting to get to Dean as soon as possible. When he came out, Dean sat at the small table with a bowl of alcohol, a mirror and lots of bloody gauze. Sam took a seat next to his brother, reaching for the sterile thread to stitch up Dean's neck and shoulder. One cut was deeper than the rest; Sam couldn't get it to stop bleeding and they were almost out of gauze.

"Hang on," Dean said when Sam told him. He rummaged in his duffel. "Here we go." The large hunting knife came out, sliced through whatever he found. "It's even sanitary," Dean said with a grin as he handed it over. "Tape that bad boy in place."

Sam took the white object, pressed it over the seeping wound. He taped it there, surprised when it actually did seem to work. "What is that?"

Dean chuckled, moving to snag some clean gauze for Sam to use. "I'll give you a hint, it's designed to soak up blood." That bright grin beamed with mischief and mystery.

After Sam finished, his eyes searched for the other half of the white object. He spotted it on top of Dean's duffel. How strange, a green cord hung down from it. It looked kind of familiar. A sickening realization crashed as he stared. "A tampon? What the hell are you doing with a tampon?"

Dean shrugged. "Dude, they're designed to soak up blood. There's a lot of blood in our work."

Sam pulled back to study his brother's face. "You actually walked into a store and bought a package of tampons? You?"

"I know. You're more the type," Dean said with a shrug. "But hey, it makes me looks like a caring and sensitive guy." He chuckled again. "Half the time I get a phone number out of it. Last time I said it was for my baby sister, Sammy."

"Great," Sam grumbled. He heard Dean chuckle again as his big brother headed for bed. Sam had a better understanding of Dean these days. Before he went off to school, he had always assumed Dean just did whatever Dad ordered. Now he knew Dean wanted to save people, that his brother didn't want anyone else to wind up like them. Why hadn't he seen his brother's nobility before? With a queasy feeling he realized, maybe he hadn't wanted to.

* * *

Dean held a knife to his throat, vicious cutting words flowing out of his mouth that cut Sam to the bone, deeper than any blade.

Sam gasped, sitting up. He glanced around the motel room, one of the more boring places they had found. His clothes were soaked through with sweat and the sheets tangled around his legs. He hated shapeshifters. Sam ran both hands over his face as he glanced at Dean's empty bed, the sheets mussed. Probably out getting breakfast, Sam decided as he gathered his things for a quick shower.

After his shower, feeling a little more human and considerably more settled, Sam sat down at his laptop wondering what Dad was doing now.

Dean walked into their room sporting a huge grin, two coffees and a bag with grease spots. "Hey, Sam? You didn't find a new hunt yet, did ya?"

Sam shrugged from behind his laptop. "Not yet. Why?"

Dean grabbed his duffel, stuffed the clothes flowing out back inside. "Hot date. Call me when you get something."

"Call you?" Sam blinked at his brother a couple of times. "You're leaving?"

Dean paused, looked over his shoulder at Sam. "Just for a couple of days. That a problem?"

"Uh, no," Sam protested quickly. "It's just...you haven't left for more than an overnight since we've been looking for Dad."

A pained look crossed Dean's face. "Yeah, well..." He dropped the duffel, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I figured, after everything we've been through lately, we could use a few days. You know, a break." He shrugged, head dropping. "I know you're kinda...freaked."

Sam sighed. "No, Dean, really. I know it wasn't you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, you talk in your sleep. We need a break. If you find something in the next couple of days, call me. Otherwise I'll be back Monday." He picked up his duffel. "And if I don't answer the phone, leave a message."

Sam's jaw hung open as his brother walked out the door without another word.

He spent the next couple of days researching and wondering about Dean. Were things so tense between them that Dean needed a few days away from him? Was Sam letting the crap a shapeshifter said drive his brother off? He split his time between researching possible hunts and their dysfunctional family. As Monday approached, Sam realized that he needed to include his brother in their decisions a little more. Sam might be as bad as Dad when it came to listening to Dean. They both seemed to treat Dean like he wasn't capable of making a decision, that he was only good for taking down the fugly.

Before Dean returned, Sam resolved to listen a little more. It would be going against a liftetime of work to ignore the authority figures in his family, but Sam would try.

* * *

Dean parked next to Frankie's Buick at the secluded bed and breakfast. Only Frankie would think of meeting up here. He hoped it didn't cost too much since it was in Frankie's name and they couldn't use a bogus credit card. He flipped his cell open and hit speed dial one as he pulled his duffel out of the car.

"Where are you?" Frankie demanded by way of greeting.

Dean grinned at his enthusiasm. "Parked next to you. Where the hell are you?"

"Room four on the far left. Hurry the hell up."

Dean chuckled to himself as the connection dropped. He swung the duffel over his shoulder as he tried not to run toward the left side of the long one story building. Room four was the very last door, just the way they liked it; fewer people to disturb.

He knocked on the door. It opened quickly, Frankie filling the doorway. One massive hand grabbed him him by the jacket and yanked him inside. As the door slammed shut, Frankie's body pressed him against the wall and his mouth was attacked. Dean struggled to drop his duffel as he responded to the attack, kissing back savagely. It had been way too long.

Frankie didn't bother with shirt buttons, simply slipping his hands under Dean's shirts and jacket, working them them over Dean's head. Now hot hands caressed his skin, running over the flesh, pausing briefly to play with his nipples. Frantic fingers scrabbled with Frankie's shirt as Dean tried pulling it off. He growled with frustration before the fabric came off, revealing broad muscled shoulders and well cut abs.

"Damn," Dean breathed, splaying his hands over the heavily muscled shoulders. "Working out more?"

Frankie nuzzled his neck, growling into his skin, "Had to find some way of working out my sexual frustrations." He felt muscles flex under his hands. "Like it?"

For an answer, Dean wound his arms around Frankie's neck. With a small jump, he had both legs wrapped around Frankie's waist. He smirked and wagged his eyebrows at Frankie. With a laugh, Frankie walked both of them across the room while Dean did his damnedest to be a pest, rubbing his groin against Frankie's stomach and laying hard, wanting kisses along Frankie's jaw and neck.

With a grunt, Frankie dropped them both to the bed, his weight holding Dean to the mattress. They engaged in more mutual teasing and taunting before Frankie's hand slipped along his side to his stomach, finally working at his jeans. Holding Frankie's mouth in a demanding kiss, Dean moved his hands down to help. With his fly wide open, Dean returned his hands to exploring the new hills and valleys of Frankie's shoulders, which really shouldn't be such a turn-on, but it was.

Frankie shifted to suckling down his neck on the unbandaged side. Dean turned his head to give more access, the ability to form words giving way to sensations and guttural moans and groans. That skilled mouth moved further down to suck at his left nipple, sparks of pleasure shooting throughout his body. Dean moaned again, the fingers of one hand buried in Frankie's jet curls, his other hand still roaming Frankie's strong back and shoulder. A wet trail marked Frankie's path down his chest. Frankie freed his engorged cock, swirling his tongue around the crown as he worked Dean's jeans off his hips. Dean lifted up to help and push himself deeper in the wonderful, warm, wet cavern. Frankie groaned in appreciation around him as his jeans slipped down.

Those big fingers pushed inside him, stroking just right, as Frankie ran a slick tongue up his length. Dean's whole body relaxed, ready to allow Frankie to just have his way. His eyes slipped shut, concentrating on how good everything felt, how much he missed this. Using just his mouth and fingers he coaxed Dean to climax, the suction on his cock hard and swift, the way he liked it. When he finished, Frankie released him to finish pulling off his jeans. Then Frankie shucked his slacks before crawling over Dean.

"Hey, babe," he said, breathing heavily.

"Hey yourself," Dean replied, staring into those deep eyes.

Frankie slid in quickly with a grunt. "Missed you."

Dean wrapped his legs around the big guy's waist, hooking them together at the ankles to rest on Frankie's back. "You too," he panted, moving with Frankie's rhythm.

They started slow, reacquainting their bodies, using well-learned strokes and motions. Then Dean rolled them, taking over temporarily. He pumped on Frankie, strong and hard, until the headboard echoed their movements. The feeling that always tore through him when he was with Frankie, leaving him breathless and his brain immobilized, reached up, taking over. He thrust harder and faster until his insides pulsed with pure pleasure.

Frankie flipped them, continuing to pump hard and fast into Dean. Brain in neutral, Dean clenched around him, digging his heels in Frankie's ass, hoping they could climax together. Frankie's breathing changed, his breath heavy and hard against Dean's cheek and in his ear. He groaned long and loud, matching his last thrust. Dean felt as his lover exploded inside him, his fingers digging into Frankie's shoulders as he moaned in empathy.

Frankie collapsed on Dean, his sweaty head sharing the same pillow, nose nuzzling behind Dean's ear. They fell asleep like that, Frankie still warm and safe inside him, which turned out to be a time-saver.

Dean woke to soft murmurs from his lover. Frankie was still asleep on top of Dean, his mumbling too indistinct to understand, but Dean could feel a certain something growing wider and harder within him. With a grin, he realized that Frankie was having a serious wet dream. He lifted his legs around Frankie and rocked his hips gently. Still asleep, Frankie moaned.

He rolled to the side, so he could be face to face with still sleeping Frankie. Dean thrust gently, moving slowly, teasing himself, wondering how long it would take to wake the big guy. Frankie moaned again, his eyes did not open but his cock hardened more. Dean made his movements more obvious as he nibbled Frankie's jaw.

"Oh, babe," Frankie groaned, starting to participate with his eyes still closed.

Dean moved down Frankie's neck, sucking the soft skin and nibbling gently. As he made his way, Frankie's thrusts picked up speed and urgency. Dean met the thrusts while concentrating on Frankie's neck. He made it to the curve towards Frankie's shoulder and placed his whole mouth over it, teeth denting the skin and tongue working back and forth. Frankie's impatient thrusts were accompanied by hands gripping his ass, thick cock slamming into him repeatedly. Dean rode it out until Frankie came with another loud groan.

Brilliant blue eyes fluttered open and the broad grin spread when he focused on Dean. "Real?" he whispered.

Dean chuckled, brushing the dark curls from Frankie's eyes. "Yeah, I'm still here."

Frankie glanced down between them and frowned. "Came too fast, didn't I?"

Dean shrugged with a sly grin. "Oh, I don't know. That depends."

Frankie met his eyes with a question. "On what?"

"Want to be bottoms?" he asked.

Frankie's eyes lit up. "Oh, hell, yeah!" He pulled out, a look of regret briefly crossing his face. Then he laid a searing kiss on Dean before rushing over to his overnight bag. He unzipped a side pocket, removed a white tube, then rushed back to Dean.

Dean took it, moving aside so Frankie could lay in the middle of the bed. Frankie used the pillows under his stomach, his sculpted ass curving starkly in the air. Dean ran his hands admiringly over them before opening the lube. It had been a while, so Dean took his time stretching Frankie. He took perverse pleasure in tormenting Frankie's prostate, making the big guy shudder and moan.

Finally Dean pushed inside. God, he was tighter than Dean remembered. It was a good thing he'd already come earlier or he wouldn't be able to last long. He started slow, rolling his hips the way Frankie liked. Those moans were definitely Frankie, not him. Dean grinned at Frankie's back as he worked, sweat breaking out all over.

When sweat trickled down his chest, running in thin streams that tickled his pubic hair, Dean picked up the pace. Frankie pressed back against him, matching his thrusts and sounding an awful lot like the star of a porn movie. Dean chuckled at the thought, wondering how a hermaphrodite porn star would fare. Talk about an interesting three-way possibility. It was almost too bad Frankie wouldn't allow it, but Dean liked being possessed so thoroughly by one person, wanted so desperately. That thought had him spilling into Frankie, pumping with his own desperation to be with his lover, his true partner.

Finished, Dean pulled out to crash beside Frankie. Frankie shoved the pillows off the bed, moving closer. He ran an arm under Dean's head, pulling Dean's back flush against his chest. They spooned together.

"How long?" Frankie asked, his question tickling Dean's hair.

"Until Monday," Dean replied, pulling Frankie's arm tighter around his waist.

Frankie gripped him closer and they fell asleep, confident they would be together for at least one more day.

* * *

Early Monday morning the door opened to admit his brother, his face practically glowing with a broad grin. The gashes on his neck were uncovered and looked like they were healing well. Dean collapsed on his bed. "Hey, Sam." He gave a lazy wave.

"Good weekend?" Sam asked, unable to help grinning at his brother's obvious relaxed state.

"Oh yeah." Dean sighed. "We have got to come this way more often." Dean's head lifted. "Find anything yet?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. If you're ready to hit the road, I'll tell you about it in the car."

Dean pushed up. "Okay, let's go."

His brother was in a really good mood, even agreeing to check out the college town where the hook man legend might have originated. Dean hated colleges, for what Sam thought were obvious reasons, but he went.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **- _Okay, seriously, these reviews are just egging me on. Now I can't stop writing about Dean and Frankie!! How warped does that make me? Then again, how warped does that make those of you here playing in my gutter? A couple of people have found this story from an LJ spn story search. Welcome to my gutter!! As always, anon reviews are welcome! (If you review anonymously and include your email, I will respond.) PMs are always welcome. My email should be visible from my FFnet homepage. I don't mind requests and/or suggestions - as a matter of fact I'm working on incorporating one suggestion right now which will be a major plot point._

* * *

Sam hated bugs. Period. Especially bees. He never knew that before, but he did now. And what the hell had been up with Dean, anyway? Big brother actually slapped him in the ass! Since when was Dean comfortable portraying a gay couple? Sam's head swam with the implications, finally passing it off to Dean's abundant sexual security. His brother was capable of picking up a strange woman any place they found themselves. Hell, he'd been trying to pick someone up for Sam lately.

Then Sam had the vision of the woman dying in the house where Mom died. He had never seen Dean so freaked out, and it certainly wasn't all because of the visions. Sam suspected most of it had to do with returning to Lawrence, but the 'shining' certainly wasn't helping. He waited it out, allowing Dean a little time to process and counting on the fact a woman's life was on the line to persuade big brother to go. As usual, Dean did not disappoint.

* * *

Sam was wracked with guilt and Dean was withdrawn. Yeah, perfect. Dean wouldn't even talk to him, much less let him check out the damage from the point-blank shot with rocksalt. He just shrugged Sam off before taking a shower. The fact Dean came out with a shirt on was not lost on him.

As Dean seemed to retreat into himself, Sam hit on a brilliant idea. He found an excuse to go back to the area that hot date of Dean's lived near. Dean perked up instantly. Sam even subtly suggested that he could use a couple of days to research their next hunt and would appreciate it if Dean could be quiet.

Within two hours Dean had another hot date. Thank God. Sam brought out the paperback he bought at the last convenience store. It was too cheesy to read in front of Dean.

* * *

Dean pulled into town, wondering what the hell Frankie was up to this time. He pulled out his cell, calling speed dial number one.

"Steve? Is that you?" Frankie asked over a lot of background noise.

"Hell, no," Dean growled. "Why would you think I'm Steve?"

"Yeah, I'm at Mart's," Frankie replied as if Dean hadn't spoken. "Not exactly your kind of crowd, but the place is really jumping. You coming or what?"

Mart's Bar and Grill. Dean thought he remembered where it was, they had been there a couple of times last year. "Yeah, I'm coming. What's going on, Frankie?"

The loud laugh did sound good to his ears. "Just seeing if I still got it. It's been a while since I was in circulation."

Dean couldn't help the laugh that erupted from him. "You kinky bastard," he chuckled. "Okay, fine, I'll play along." Mart's was just ahead. Dean pulled into the parking lot. "See you in five."

"No, they don't care if you bring your own girl, Steve. It's the only way you'll find one here, anyway!" Frankie said with another laugh. "Later!"

Dean shook his head as he shoved the phone in his pocket. He really hoped Sam didn't call while he was in the bar, because he doubted he'd be able to hear it anyway. He spotted Frankie's Buick near the front entrance, but there weren't any parking spaces open now except at the end of the lot. Dean frowned over that, it meant Frankie had been here for a while. Well, if Frankie was trying to make him jealous, the big guy was doing a hell of a job.

He rubbed his silver ring as he stalked through the parking lot. Dean swallowed hard before pushing through the front door, voices and music assaulting his ears. It took him several minutes to spot Frankie sitting at a booth with two other guys. Dean found an open stool at the bar. He ordered a beer. After his beer was served and he added a generous tip, to make sure the bartender kept checking up on him, Dean turned around on his stool to check things out.

This had to be the biggest gay bar in four counties. The place was packed. Maybe it was ladies night. Dean chuckled to himself as he spotted a few guys who would fit in that category, if it weren't insulting to women.

Frankie seemed to be having a good time. The guy sitting beside him in the booth had an arm draped over those massive shoulders, just hanging all over him. The guy across from him was laughing and talking with his hands. Frankie laughed at whatever the guy talking said. Damn him, he was really going out of his way to make Dean jealous. And it was working.

The bartender tapped Dean on the shoulder to see if he needed anything.

"Yeah," Dean shouted into the guy's ear. "Send the big guy over there a beer. From me."

The bartender shook his head. "Guys have been buying him beers all afternoon! No luck!"

Dean shrugged. "Still worth a try! Make sure he sees it's from me!" he shouted back as he handed over a twenty.

The bartender shrugged at him, clearly thinking it a lost cause. He filled a mug and shouldered his way through the crowd to Frankie's table. Setting the beer down, he leaned over to speak into Frankie's ear. Dean watched Frankie's eyes light up when the bartender pointed him out. Frankie gave him a brilliant smile as he lifted his beer in thanks. Dean smiled back, lifting his beer to Frankie. He waited a few minutes before making his move.

Holding his half-full beer, Dean sauntered over to Frankie's booth. He glared at the guy sitting across from Frankie until the guy slid over to make room. Dean gave Frankie his best pick-up smile as he sat.

"You believe this?" the guy complained to the man hanging off of Frankie.

The hanger-on sneered at Dean, which he tactfully ignored. "Hey," he said to Frankie.

Frankie grinned back, obviously enjoying this game. "Hey." He lifted the beer. "Thanks!"

The guy sitting beside Dean snorted loudly. Dean shot him a hard look before offering his hand to Frankie. "Dean."

Frankie shook. "Frank," he shouted back.

Dean made a face as he shook his head. "You don't look like a Frank."

Frankie leaned over the table. "What?"

Dean pitched his voice louder. "I said, you don't look like a Frank."

"What do I look like?" Frankie asked, his eyes laughing at Dean's attempt to pick him up.

"Like a Frankie," Dean replied as the guy hanging on Frankie laughed.

"You blew it," the hanger-on shouted. "Might as well go crawl back to your parole officer!"

Dean gave the guy a cold grin, sizing him up. Soft. Watched too many movies where an average guy can take on somebody who knows what they're doing. No callouses on the hands, probably had a desk job. He'd last two, maybe three seconds in a real fight. Confident the hanger-on was not even a potential threat, Dean returned his attention to Frankie.

He leaned forward on the table, motioning Frankie closer. "You married? You know, exclusive?" he shouted, making sure he was loud enough for the two idiots trying to pick Frankie up to hear.

Frankie's smile broadened as he shook his head.

"Interested?" Dean asked, jerking his head toward the door.

"Depends," Frankie shouted back, "are you good in bed?"

Dean laughed at his audacity. "Baby, I'm good everywhere."

"Yeah?" Frankie shook off his hanger-on to stand. He leaned into Dean's face. "Prove it."

Dean motioned to their beers. "Going to waste the beer."

Frankie grabbed him by his jacket, yanking him to a stand. Dean laughed again, shrugging helplessly at the guys in the booth as Frankie dragged him through the crowd. He fell in step beside Frankie, winding an arm around the waist which took a supporting role in the dreams he'd been having. They stepped out of the bar, their ears ringing from the noise inside.

"What took so damn long?" Frankie demanded, one hand running up Dean's back under his shirt.

"Hell, I had to drive across the whole damn state to get here," Dean replied, groping Frankie's firm ass. "How long have you been here?"

Frankie turned beer-bleary eyes on him. "Long enough to let strange men get me drunk." He laughed, missing a step and nearly falling, but Dean caught him.

"Shit, Frankie. We'll come get your car tomorrow. I'm parked back there." Dean motioned to the last row in the lot.

Frankie chuckled. "Like you'd park closer anyway."

"Hey!"

Dean ignored the strange voice, eyes only for Frankie. "Oh, you think so?" he demanded, kind of enjoying seeing Frankie smashed.

Frankie stopped, spinning to face him and nearly falling over again. Dean scrambled to keep the big guy upright. "I know so," he stated loudly.

"Hey!" The two guys from Frankie's booth ran up, stopping only a few feet away. "We were talking to Frank!"

"Yeah, well, he's done," Dean said flatly, turning Frankie toward the car again.

"Hey, man!" A hand spun Dean around. He resisted sending the guy into next week. "I've been buying him beer for four hours! You can't just walk in here and take advantage of me like that. I've got dibs!"

"Dibs?" Dean asked incredulously before turning on Frankie. "You've been here for four hours? Dude, no wonder you're smashed."

Frankie beamed, tottering gently as he rested a balancing hand on Dean's shoulder. "I was having fun."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll bet." He faced the idiot with 'dibs'. "Look, how much did you spend on him? I'll cover it."

The idiot glared, alcohol clearly overriding better sense. "I don't want money. I want him."

Dean glanced back at Frankie's beaming face. Yeah, he would be just eating this up.

"Dude, you can't have him. You can have the money. Now how much?" Dean dug his wallet out. Against his better judgment, he pulled out a fifty. "Here, that should cover it." Dean held it out as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket. "Now go inside and find some other hunk to liquor up."

"Hunk?" Frankie asked, his hand squeezing Dean's shoulder. "Did you call me a hunk?"

"Frankie," Dean growled. "Not now."

The guy Dean had been sitting next to took a couple of steps back. "Uh, Gary? Maybe you should take the money. It's still early, we can find somebody else."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. He took a step forward, narrowing his eyes on the idiot.

"Dean?" Frankie's voice came from behind him. "They were nice to me, don't break them."

Dean waved Frankie off without turning around. "Find somebody else for what?" he demanded in a low voice.

The idiot proved Dean's assessment. He telegraphed his move, allowing Dean to sidestep the blow and land a few of his own. The idiot dropped unconscious to the ground. Dean took a step toward the idiot's partner. The guy backed up, eyes wide.

"Dean," Frankie slurred as a weight fell on his shoulder. "C'mon, babe." Warm lips caressed his neck. "I had a dream," he said against Dean's jaw.

Crap. Frankie had him distracted long enough for the other guy to disappear inside the building. Well, too late now anyway. Dean turned Frankie around, pointing them toward the Impala.

"Don't you want to hear about my dream?" Frankie persisted, stumbling again.

Dean pulled Frankie's arm over his shoulders, wrapping an arm around him again. "Sure, Frankie. Tell me all about it."

"Baby," Frankie said.

"What?" Dean asked, maneuvering him between cars.

"Noooo," Frankie said slowly. "You're supposed to call me baby. Like you did in the bar."

Dean let out a little sigh as he opened the passenger door. He grabbed Frankie by both arms, helping him in. Once Frankie was safely inside, Dean leaned in the open door. "Okay, baby," he said softly. "Tell me about your dream."

Frankie reached up to stroke his cheek. "I'd rather show you," he said suggestively. "Take me home."

"What about Steve?" Dean asked, smiling at him.

"He's staying with my parents for a couple of days," Frankie replied seriously. "I don't want to rent two rooms again. That gets expensive."

"Two rooms?" Dean asked. He crouched next to Frankie. "What are you talking about?"

Frankie beamed at him. "Did you think it was just lucky we didn't get kicked out of that B-n-B?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, actually, I did." He met Frankie's gaze. "You shouldn't be spending money on me like that."

"I wasn't! I was spending it on us." Frankie's amazing blue eyes watered. "Don't you think we're worth it?"

Dean patted his arm. "You're drunk. Let's go home, okay?"

Frankie grabbed his arm before he could stand up. "We are worth it, right?"

Dean smiled at him. "Dude, I just took down a guy who's been hitting on you all afternoon. Doesn't that tell you I think we're worth it?" He shook his head at Frankie. "You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow. You know that, right?"

"You'll be here to take care of me," Frankie said confidently, laying his head back on the headrest.

"Yeah. I will." Dean closed the door. He walked around to the driver's side and dropped down behind the steering wheel. After he started the car and backed out of his parking space, Frankie slid across the seat to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean drove them slowly back to Frankie's house, wondering if the big guy would still be awake when they arrived. It took an awful lot of alcohol to get Frankie, of all people, this drunk. As he drove, he wondered if maybe those guys slipped a little something extra in Frankie's beers. If it weren't for the heavy weight on his shoulder, Dean would seriously consider heading back to take care of the second guy he let get away.

He pulled into the driveway. From under his seat, Dean produced his garage door opener. He parked inside the garage before trying to get Frankie out of the car. Frankie was really groggy now, but Dean managed to get him talking again.

"You promised to tell me about that dream," Dean prompted, holding Frankie's face between his hands. "Frankie? Can you hear me?"

Big blue eyes fluttered open. "What happened to baby?" he demanded.

Dean limited his head shake to just one. "Right. Sorry." He wet his lips as he thought about how gay this sounded. Well, hell, he'd already slapped his own brother in the ass and discovered he pulled off a convincing gay guy, so why not? Especially if it made Frankie happy. "Frankie, baby, what about that dream?"

Frankie's broad, bright grin made it so worth it. "Really good dream," he said, allowing Dean to help him out of the car. Dean draped one of Frankie's arms over his shoulders. "We were home, just the two of us." One of Frankie's hands grabbed his ass. "And we were in the shower."

Dean chuckled as he unlocked the front door. "You really have a thing for the shower."

"Mmm-hmmm," Frankie murmured, leaning over to stick his tongue in Dean's ear.

"Dude!" Dean chastised as he dropped his keys. He maneuvered Frankie inside to the couch before retrieving his keys.

Frankie looked like he was in a haze, his eyes unfocused, as he patted the cushion next to him. Dean checked the salt line at the front door before joining Frankie on the couch. Instantly big hands were all over him, tugging at his clothes, pulling him down on the couch.

Dean struggled against Frankie's advances, not liking taking advantage of how drugged Frankie was. "I thought you were telling me about your dream," Dean protested.

"Gonna show you," Frankie mumbled, double his efforts in stripping Dean's clothes off.

Realizing it was futile, and the only way to settle Frankie down would be to give him what he wanted, Dean helped Frankie take their clothes off. Frankie seemed to want to head to the shower, but Dean insisted on the bed, afraid the big guy would hurt himself on all that slick tile.

"Okay," Frankie said, spreading out on the bed, "first you have to get me really hard. You know what to do."

Dean obeyed, straddling Frankie's legs. With a sly grin, he leaned over to take the half-hard penis in his mouth. He bobbed up and down a few times until Frankie let out a soft moan of pleasure. Then he paused to swirl his tongue around the head a few times. Frankie's hands gripped the sides of his head. Those big hands made him bob a few more times before pulling him up to Frankie's mouth. He gave the big mouth similar treatment as Frankie tried to position him. Dean broke away to shift up where Frankie wanted him.

"Here?" he asked as the tip of Frankie barely penetrated.

Frankie shook his head, hands gripping Dean's hips. He pulled Dean down until he was fully sheathed inside Dean. Dean rocked back and forth a few times, enjoying it, knowing the wait had been just as hard on Frankie. Planting his hands on each side of Frankie's head, Dean started pumping up and down slowly.

"Trying to make me jealous?" he demanded playfully, unable to actually get upset with a drunk and possibly drugged Frankie.

The wide, bright grin appeared. "Did it work?"

Dean chuckled, moving a little more forcefully. "Yeah. I'm breaking something next time. Like a jaw."

His big hands pulled Dean down for a probing, searing kiss that left him panting. It was good to be home.

* * *

A pounding knock on the front door woke him. Dean was pressed against Frankie's back, one leg slung over Frankie's legs. The pounding sounded again. Dean disentangled himself. He pulled on a pair of pants before heading for the front door. As he walked through the den, Dean glanced down to see how unpresentable he looked. His chest was covered with blotched bruises from the shotgun blast. Crap! Dean glanced around the room, spotting his shirt still on the couch. He scooped it up, pulling it on over his head as he approached the door.

Now at least not looking like he was a refugee from a wrestling show, Dean cracked open the door. Two uniformed officers stood outside. What the hell?

"Can I help you?" Dean asked through the crack.

One of the officers motioned to the house. "We understand this is the residence of Frank Warren. Is that correct?"

Dean nodded, still wondering what the hell was going on. "Yeah, that's right. What's this about?"

The second officer moved forward. "His car was abandoned at Mart's Bar and Grill yesterday afternoon. There were reports he might have been forced to leave against his will."

Dean stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Those reports wouldn't have been filed by the two idiots who drugged him, would it?" he asked casually.

The cops exchanged a look. "Sir?"

"By the time I got there, Frankie was too smashed for it to be just beer. They had to have slipped him something." Dean locked gazes with one of the cops. "Tell me, how's his jaw?"

The cop's mouth twisted a little, like he was trying not to smile. "Bruised pretty good, but not broken. Might be fractured, though."

Dean snorted, but he wasn't stupid enough to voice what he really thought, that it was too bad the asshole's jaw wasn't broken.

"Dean?" Miss Shelly called. His eyes shifted over to watch their nosy neighbor shuffle across the grass in her fuzzy blue slippers and perpetual faded housecoat. "Dean, is everything all right?"

One of the officers turned to face her. "Ma'am, you live next door?" he asked, flipping open his notebook and pulling out a pen.

"That's right," she said haughtily. "Shelly Benjamin. Now what is going on here?"

"How long have you lived here?" the cop asked.

"Twenty-five years," Miss Shelly replied. "Frank took over the house five years ago." She looked past the cop at Dean. "Frank is okay, isn't he, Dean dear?"

Dean nodded. "He's fine. Just sleeping off all the fun he had yesterday."

"Can we speak with him?" the cop still standing close to Dean asked.

Dean eyed him warily. "I'd rather not wake him. He's going to have one bitch of a hang-over."

Miss Shelly made her way between Dean and the cops. "You leave these boys alone," she admonished. "They're good boys."

"How long have you known, Dean? Is that right? Dean what?" the cop with the notebook asked.

"Since he started dating Frank, about four years ago!" Miss Shelly snapped.

Dean cleared his throat, whispering to her, "Three years."

Miss Shelly spun to glare at him. "Well what took you so long? It should have been four years ago!"

Dean suppressed his chuckle, but the smile bled out onto his face. "Yes, Miss Shelly. I'm sorry."

"And you should be," she snapped. Now she turned on the cops. "If Dean says Frank needs his sleep, then you leave him alone! Now, you two can come back later if you want to talk to Frank." Miss Shelly took one of the officers by the arm, leading him away from the house. "I have fresh coffee, and you can ask me all the questions you want about these two lovely boys. Did you know that Dean gives my car a tune-up every three months?"

The second cop looked rapidly between his partner being taken by Miss Shelly and Dean. "Uh, we'll be back later. We will have to speak with Mister Warren in person."

Dean waved at him. With a sigh, he headed back inside to make coffee. Frankie was going to need it. He didn't like the fact perfect strangers were trying to accuse him of abducting one of the few people in this world he valued, and he really didn't like the assholes being so persistent. Salt guarded against the supernatural, not people. Maybe Frankie needed a dog. A big dog. Too bad Dad and Bobby had that falling out last year, Bobby would probably know what he needed.

As the coffee pot perked happily, filling the pot with delicious dark fluid, Dean's thoughts continued to center on Frankie. It was probably just the asshole with 'dibs' trying to get even with Dean, nothing more than that. He hoped.

"Hey, babe," Frankie's voice filled the otherwise silent kitchen. His face was pinched and he squinted in the bright kitchen light. Dean flipped the light switch down. "I really hope that's coffee," he said, sliding into a seat at the table.

Dean brought him a full mug. "How're you feeling?" he asked gently.

"Like shit," Frankie mumbled. "Get the number of that truck?"

"Frankie?" Dean studied his face carefully. "Do you like dogs?"

Frankie ran a hand over his face. "Dean, don't start. I'm fine here when you're gone. Plus Steve still lives here, so it's not like I'm alone when you're on the road."

"Could you call Bobby anyway? Ask him if he knows of a good guard dog?" Dean asked. "I'm afraid those assholes might know where you live."

Frankie graced him with a smile. "You're so sexy when you worry about me."

"Two cops just came to the door to check on you," Dean told him. "Miss Shelly is having them over for coffee."

Frankie chuckled and stopped abruptly, pressing a hand to his forehead. Dean jumped up to grab the aspirin bottle.

"I almost feel sorry for them," Frankie said. "Her coffee is terrible. I'll bet she's making them look at her scrapbooks too." He smiled as he accepted the pills from Dean. "When do you head back to Sam?"

"Tomorrow," Dean replied.

"You know, I still have the extra room," Frankie hinted.

Dean sighed. Yeah, he knew, and he knew why Frankie hadn't found a roommate to replace what's-his-name. He was still hoping Dean would just tell Sam everything. Dean pulled up his shirt to show Frankie what he was too out of it to notice last night.

"What the hell happened to you?" Frankie demanded in a strong voice, standing for a better look.

"Sam." Dean swallowed hard. "He was under the influence of a dead psycho-psychiatrist, but it was still Sam. Shit, Frankie, you should've heard what he said about me, how pathetic I am. How can I tell him about me now?" He shook his head, lowering his shirt. "It'll just make things worse."

Frankie's hand snaked across the table to grab Dean's as he sat back down. "Maybe, on some level, he knows you're holding back. It might make things better." His thumb caressed the back of Dean's hand. "I know you'd feel better."

Dean sighed heavily as he shrugged. "I really thought we were starting to, you know, click again." He shook his head. "Wishful thinking, I guess."

Frankie sipped his coffee with one hand, the other still clutching Dean's. The silence in the kitchen was warm and comfortable, supportive. Dean squeezed the hand back. "I'll think about it," he promised. "If you call Bobby."

Frankie smiled at him. "Okay, babe. You got a deal."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12** - _Thanks again to my gutter-neighbors for coming back, again and again. You lurkers out there, thanks for coming back to play in my gutter!_

Dean woke to the sounds of running water. He reached out to the other side of the bed, where the sheets were still warm and smelled of Frankie. Frankie's voice echoed from the bathroom, "Feel like making love..."

Wide awake now, Dean sat bolt upright in bed. This was his last day at home for a while. His eyes darted to the bathroom door, which was open a crack and had steam curling around the edges. He grinned, throwing the covers off his naked body. Dean stepped into the bathroom. The glass walls of the shower were covered with steam and droplets of water. Two towels hung next to the shower door. The door opened, Frankie's voice filling the room as a hand waved for him to come in.

Dean stepped into the shower, hot water hitting his skin and bouncing up into his eyes. He turned his head away from the spray, pulling the door closed. When he turned back toward the water, Frankie stood in the middle of the spray, water flowing down his well defined chest.

"Guess you finally figured out how to get that six-pack," Dean commented as he ran fingers over the muscles.

Frankie grinned as he pulled Dean closer to close his mouth over Dean's. Tongues danced and probed as water coursed over their faces. Without breaking apart, Frankie moved him against the wall. Knowing what Frankie wanted, Dean pressed his back against the wall before lifting one leg up over Frankie's hip. Frankie's kissing deepened in intensity as he lifted Dean's other leg around his waist. Relying only on Frankie and the wall, Dean pressed his shoulders against the cool tile, a delicious contrast to the hot water coursing over them. One of Frankie's hands pressed between them, positioning his cock at Dean's entrance. It took a few thrusts, but finally Frankie was inside him.

Dean opened his eyes as Frankie moved slowly inside him. One of Frankie's hands reached for the soft soap dispenser. Dean grinned as a large hand returned with a mound of white foam. Frankie's hips paused as he rubbed the soap across Dean's chest. Dean used one hand to take some of the soap and run it over Frankie's chest.

One of Frankie's hands slipped down to hold him up by the ass while the other one pressed against the small of his back. Dean held on to Frankie's neck, pressing their chests together. As Frankie moved slowly inside him, their slick skin slid erotically up and down. Yeah, Dean liked Frankie's shower kink. A lot of phone calls centered around this particular scenario. Frankie's mouth was back on his, tongues thrusting similar to the thrusting below.

They moved together, neither in a hurry for this to be over, trying to make it last. Dean forced his thoughts to focus on the here and now, not ten minutes, an hour, or a day from now. He concentrated on Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. The only bad thing about the shower was it washed all the smells away, so he couldn't distinguish Frankie's heady, musky scent over the soap and water. He tried sniffing the black curly hair, but Frankie had had time to shampoo and all he could smell were the herbal scents, damn it. All those freaking muscles, though, rippling under his fingertips as they slid together smoothly, now that was worth losing the smells.

Frankie's mouth shifted off of his, moving slowly down his jaw, sucking the skin gently on his neck. Dean arched his head to the side, letting Frankie do what he wanted, hearing the moan "Frankie" echo in the shower.

"Say it," Frankie said into his neck.

Dean grinned as he moved to look into those wonderful blue eyes. "Baby," he murmured, running his fingers through the wet locks as Frankie returned to working his neck over. Dean focused on the feel of Frankie's chest sliding against his, the pressure on his own hard penis between their stomachs, and the gentle slip-slide inside him. The water, Frankie, it was his whole world.

Frankie sped up, his breath quickening. "Crap," he hissed.

Dean tightened his legs, helping Frankie reach completion. Frankie thrust hard, pressing Dean tight against the wall. Dean felt the pulsing within, helped grind against Frankie until he was done.

"Damn," Frankie said as leaned against Dean.

Dean massaged Frankie's jaw with his tongue and replied, "It's not like we can stay in the shower all day."

Frankie chuckled as he helped lower Dean to his feet. "I could try." His hands ran down Dean's body. Dean leaned back against the wall, running his hands over Frankie's arms. One of those wonderful large hands wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly. The other hand lifted one of Dean's legs up over his hip again. When he was in place, the hand moved under his ass to tease his vagina. Yeah, Frankie was going to take all damn day if he could, and right now, Dean was okay with that.

Frankie had him panting hard and heavy before finally giving in and making Dean orgasm, using those big damn fingers and pumping him just right. The deep feeling washed over him, blotting out thought as Frankie pressed a finger against that spot inside. He fell against Frankie as he came, his muscles turned to as much mush as his brain. Frankie's hands dropped away to wrap around his body, holding him as his body shuddered with pure pleasure.

"Can't forget me now, can you?" Frankie asked as he held Dean close.

Dean had to catch his breath before he could answer. "I never could." He smiled as he added, "Baby."

Frankie grinned, grabbing Dean by the back of his neck. "You nut," he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "Come back soon."

"You know I want to," Dean replied. He laid another kiss on Frankie, one that said how much he loved Frankie, as well as good-bye.

* * *

God, Frankie was making leaving more and more difficult. Dean regretfully drove his car out of the neighborhood, doing his best not to stare in the rearview mirror. Frankie was right, he was going to have to come clean with Sam. Soon. All this time apart, months at a time, was too hard. Surely Sam would be able to understand that. Hell, Sam would probably appreciate having a rent-free place to stay between jobs. Now all he had to do was figure out how to say it. Should he go for full disclosure, or just tell Sammy he was gay? Somehow, the gay angle sounded easier.

Dean pulled up at the motel where he left his little brother. Sam was reading a paperback when he walked in, which he stuffed under his pillow the instant Dean opened the door. He chuckled about it, making a mental note to find that book so he'd have something to tease Sam about.

"Good weekend?" Sam asked with a knowing grin. For the first time, Dean wondered if Sam set him up. Nah.

"Yeah," he replied as he slung his duffel on the floor. Crashing on his bed, realizing he needed sleep before they tried to drive anywhere, Dean glanced over at Sam. "Great weekend. You?"

Sam shrugged. "I haven't really found anything yet."

"Good." Dean closed his eyes. "I could use a nap."

He heard Sam chuckle and the rustle of pages as he dropped off to sleep.

* * *

Dean thought he heard his phone ring, but it went away. He told himself if it was important, they'd call back. Coming slightly more awake, Dean noticed Sam's voice. Sam sounded kind of...pissy. Actually, Sam sounded an awful lot like he was arguing with Dad. Weird.

Dean rolled over, forcing his eyes to open. Sam was sitting up, holding Dean's damn phone, saying, "No, Dad. Okay? Just no!"

Dad? "Give me the phone, Sam!" he demanded, sitting up, wide awake now. Sam ignored him until he wrenched the phone away.

"Dad? Where are you?" Dean asked.

"Dean, I need you to take down these names," Dad said.

"Are you all right?" he demanded, hoping Sam's bad attitude hadn't driven Dad off.

"Dean, either you do your job and take down these names, or hand the phone back over to Sam so I can tell him all about Frank."

"Names. Right. Hang on." Dean scrambled for paper and pen while Sam shot him a nasty look. A cold sweat broke out over his forehead. He took down the names. Before Dad hung up, he said, "I can't believe you haven't told him yet, Dean. Sam's going to be pissed you waited so long."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied stiffly, hating the fact Dad was black-mailing him into cooperation. Like Dad needed to. Like Dean had ever even talked back.

"Take care of yourself and Sam. And Frank. Stop looking for me." Dad hung up. Crap.

Dean slowly lowered his phone, staring at it in disbelief. Well, at least they had something to do now.

* * *

Dean was pissed. Mad, angry, furious didn't even come close. He was just pissed. Without thinking about what he was doing, he hit the speed-dial on his phone.

"Babe?" Frankie's yawn came through. "What is it? I have to work tomorrow."

Dean glanced out at the dark night. He checked his watch, it was three in the morning. "Shit, Frankie, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so late. I can call you later. Or you can call me. Hell, looks like after this job, I'll be coming home anyway!" Dean slammed one hand on the steering wheel.

"Dean?" Frankie sounded awake now. "What happened?"

Dean snorted loudly. "Dad called to tell us to stop looking for him, that it wasn't safe. Sam ran the number Dad called from, found it was a payphone in Cali, and took off. Bastard." He hit the steering wheel again. "Always taking off and leaving me to deal with everything. Clean up the mess."

"You're upset," Frankie said slowly.

"Upset?" Dean demanded. "Do I sound upset?"

"No," Frankie replied just as slowly and calmly as before, "you sound pissed. Babe, I want you to pull over before you drive off the road or something."

Dean growled in response, but he pulled over. "Now what?" he snapped.

"Close your eyes."

"I'm not in the mood, Frankie," he growled.

"Just do it, Dean. If you trust me, close your eyes."

Dean rolled his eyes first, but then he closed them. "Fine. Now what?"

"Lean your head back," he instructed. "Take a deep breath and hold it."

Dean breathed deeply and held it.

"Let it out slowly, but don't move."

Dean did as he was told, always doing what he was told.

"Now I want you to picture Sam as a little kid, one of those times it was just the two of you waiting for John to come back."

"What the hell does this have to..."

"Shut up and do it, Dean," Frankie insisted. "I want you to remember how Sam depended on you for everything, how he looked to you to solve all his problems."

"Yeah? So?" Dean demanded, eyes still closed.

"So do you really want him acting like that now? Or should he be an adult, making his own decisions, trying to solve his own problems?" Frankie asked. "The fact he isn't like that is a good thing, Dean. I know it's annoying, I do listen to my sister even though she doesn't think I do. I know how annoying she thinks I am."

He sighed loudly. "So you're saying the fact Sam's being a prissy pain in the ass is my fault?"

Frankie's chuckle sounded pretty good in his ear. "Yeah, I'm saying it sounds like you and your dad did a good job raising Sam. You should be proud of him, of the man he's become."

"Crap," Dean groaned. "I hate it when you make sense." He sighed again. "Can I open my eyes now?"

Frankie chuckled again. "Yeah, babe. Go ahead. It sounds like you have a job to do, right?"

"Yeah." Dean put the car back in drive. "And then I'm headed home. Dad doesn't want me looking for him? Fine. I won't be looking for anything."

"You'll last two weeks," Frankie replied, "before I catch you with a pile of newspapers."

"I'm serious this time, Frankie," Dean insisted.

"Yeah, right. Call me later. You know how I worry when you're working alone," he said.

"Okay, baby," Dean replied with a grin.

"I love it when you call me that," Frankie said in a husky voice.

"I know," Dean said as he hung up.

All the next day, as Dean checked out the town and found a likely couple to be sacrificed, Frankie's words echoed in his head. He managed to save the couple, barely. At least he found what was killing people, some kind of pagan god pretending to be a scarecrow. He was driving to his appointment with a college professor when he decided to call Sam. Now that he had cooled off, and really thought about what Frankie said, Dean didn't want this to drive them apart again. It was time to tell Sam what he really thought of his little brother. It wasn't the confession he had been planning, but it was the one he needed to make now.

Sam was more receptive than Dean had imagined. He felt a measure of relief after he hung up. At least Sam was talking to him again. Those years of silence between them had been hard. If it weren't for Frankie, Dean wasn't sure how he could have survived it. With Frankie he always had someone to talk to. That was the thing he had missed most about Sam, having someone to talk to, someone who understood hunting and Dad. Frankie appearing in his life had been like a god-send, but Dean wasn't ready to let Sam just go like that again. Not like that.

* * *

Sam pressed redial on his phone again. Again Dean's cell rang over to voicemail. Well, Sam told himself, Dean was a pretty sound sleeper. It was the middle of the night. Hell, Dean could have found some girl to hook up with. Speaking of, Meg was cute, and good company. She was ducking her controlling family too. They had spent hours venting to each other, and now Sam was obsessing over the fact Dean wasn't answering his cell. But it wasn't like that was unusual. Was it?

Sam leaned his head back against the cold wall of the bus station. How many times had Dean not answered his cell when Sam called? He tried to remember, to count them, but he couldn't recall a single time. Surely there had been at least one? Maybe while he was at Stanford? With a fresh stab of guilt, something Sam was not accustomed to feeling when things regarded Dean when they were growing up, but was commonplace now, he realized the reason he never spoke to Dean the whole time he was in college was because he had not called. Sam had told Dean, point-blank, to leave him alone when he left. Dean did. When Dean broke in and Sam acted like his big brother was an idiot for not calling, it had not occurred to him Dean thought he wouldn't take the call. Not until Dean asked if he would have answered. Sam had been so stunned, he couldn't think to defend himself.

He would have answered, Sam told himself. He would have. Sam called again. Voicemail. He hung up. Called again. Voicemail.

Dean had not deserved his rant at the asylum, even though he had not been in control. Dean hadn't deserved the 'perfect soldier' crap either, even if there was a lot of truth in it. Sam knew better than anyone that Dean had his own ways of showing dissidence. Dean was subtle, and effective. Subtle didn't work for Sam. For years Sam had not seen Dean's methods for what they were, only seeing how Dean worked desperately to keep him and Dad from killing each other. It was one of the reasons Sam pushed the envelope so much, because it took a lot to get past Dean's defenses into Dad.

Sam called again. Voicemail.

If anything, Dean deserved years worth of apologies from Dad. Years. How much crap had Dad laid on Dean since they were kids? How many times had the two of them been left alone, underage? And Dean had called him selfish. Big brother hadn't been under anyone's influence when he said that, and he hadn't apologized for it when he called. Dean probably did think Sam was selfish. Well, he wasn't that far off.

Voicemail. Damn it!

Meg rushed over. "Sam, the bus is here! Let's go!"

Sam gritted his teeth as he stood, grabbing his bag. "You go," he said, determination setting in. "I can't."

"What? Why not?" she demanded.

"My brother isn't answering," Sam said, hearing how weak it sounded but knowing what a strong argument it really was. "Something is wrong. I have to go."

He didn't expect her to understand, and she didn't. Sam didn't care. He brushed past her as he left, ignoring her invitation to 'go with me.' Later he might kick himself for passing that one up, but right now it wasn't even appealing. Sam scouted the parking lot of the bus station for a likely car. It only took him two minutes to open the door and hotwire the car. Dean would probably bitch him out for getting so rusty. Sam smiled to himself as he thought about it, heading the car for the town Dean had been scouting out. His brother had to be there. Someplace.

He spotted a large orchard which sounded a lot like Dean's description of where the scarecrow was. There wasn't a scarecrow, just a huge wooden beam sticking up in the center of the place, but Sam stopped anyway. He turned off the motor of his borrowed car to listen carefully out the window. The evening breeze carried indistinct voices to him. Maybe this was the place. Sam headed through the field, wishing he had some of the weapons in the Impala. Who knew he would be needing them? Dean probably would have let him take what he wanted if he had asked, not that either of them were thinking rationally when Sam took off on foot, in the middle of the night. Not one of his brightest moves, Sam had to admit.

He crept slowly through the orchard in the dark, ears tuned for the slightest sound.

"You don't have a plan, do you?" a woman's voice asked.

"I'm working on it." Dean! Thank God, he was still alive. What trouble had the idiot gotten himself into now? Sam angled his path toward the voices.

"Can you see?"

"What?" the woman asked.

"Is he moving yet?" Dean demanded. Sam was nearly there, keeping his eyes and ears open for anyone or anything.

"I can't see," she said. Sam was nearly there. "Oh my god," she hissed. Sam rounded the next tree. Crap! Dean and some woman were tied up – the sacrifice?

"Oh my god!" she screamed as Sam stepped into view.

"Dean?" Sam asked, guilt flowing freely now. Good god, how bad had he screwed up this time?

"Oh!" Dean beamed at him. "Oh, I take back everything I said. I'm so happy to see you! Come on." He shook his tied hands at Sam.

Sam dropped to one knee to untie his brother, essentially ignoring the innocent woman behind him as he wondered what all Dean had been through in the past day. Dean frowned at him. "How'd you get here?"

"Uh," Sam ducked his head as he worked on Dean's ropes, "I stole a car."

"Ha-ha!" Dean laughed loudly. "That's my boy!" Sam felt his cheeks flush with pride. "And keep an eye on that scarecrow, he could come alive any minute."

"What scarecrow?" Sam asked, looking around again. Dean bounded to his feet, looking over at the empty post Sam had wondered about on his trek in. Dean gave him a dark look.

Sam dove for the woman's ropes with Dean, prying them loose in record time between them.

* * *

With the tree burned and the girl on the bus out of town, Sam and Dean watched the bus drive away.

"You think she'll be all right?" Sam asked tentatively, wondering exactly where their relationship was now.

"I hope so," Dean replied, not looking at him.

Encouraged, Sam tried to get his brother talking. "So the townspeople? They'll just get away with it?" he asked. Dean had always taken care of everything when they were kids, he hoped by falling into something approximating their childhood routine, Dean would respond in kind.

Dean shrugged. "Well, what happens to the town will have to be punishment enough." Sam followed his big brother to the Impala. With a twinge, Sam realized the car was the closest thing he had to a real home. How pathetic was that?

"So. Can I drop you off somewhere?" Dean asked.

Sam took a deep breath. He had been thinking about this. A lot. All night when Dean didn't answer his phone. "No. I think you're stuck with me."

Dean stopped, turning around to look at him. "Really? What made you change your mind?"

Big brother didn't sound convinced, more like he was afraid to believe Sam. Unfortunately Sam couldn't blame Dean for it, not after the fit he'd thrown over wanting to look for Dad.

"I didn't. I still want to find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass." He paused. Dean nodded but didn't interrupt. "But Jess and Mom – they're gone. Dad is god knows where. You and me, we're all that's left. So if we're gonna see this through, we're going to do it together."

Dean stepped closer to rest a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful."

Sam laughed with relief, knocking Dean's hand away. "You should be kissing my ass. You were dead meat, dude."

Dean dropped into the driver's seat. "Yeah, right. I'd have gotten out. I had a plan."

Sam had heard the extent of Dean's plans in the orchard. "Right," he snorted. He exchanged a smile with his brother as Dean fired up the car. Sam relaxed into the seat as Dean left this horrible little town far in the rearview.

After about twenty minutes on the road, Dean pulled over at a gas station. "Fill it up, Sam. I gotta take a leak."

Sam got out and stretched. He tried filling up the Impala, but after four gallons the pump kept kicking over. Finally he checked the gas gauge. Full. Curious, Sam headed for the bathrooms. Dean had been in there for a while. Or had he? Sam spotted Dean walking by the side of the road, on the phone. Now who was Dean talking to?

Sam went back to the car. Dean told him to fill it up to distract him so big brother could make a phone call. None of his business, Sam told himself. Dean was allowed to make a stupid phone call without Sam's permission. Sure, he would like to know who it was to, and if Dean wanted him to know, Dean would tell him.

Dean came back to the car ten long minutes later. "Waiting long?" he asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

"A while," Sam said, starting the car. "What took so long?"

Dean shrugged, leaning back in the seat. "Upset stomach."

"Feeling better?" he asked, pulling out on to the road.

"Not really," Dean said. "But I'm getting there."

Sam had a feeling it wasn't Dean's stomach that was still upset, and he was glad Dean was 'getting there.' Sam bit his tongue which burned with the question about the mysterious phone call. Right now, he didn't have the right to ask, and he knew it. Sam was starting to get it. For a guy who got a full ride to Stanford, Sam could be pretty slow.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13** - _Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for - Sam learns about Frankie!! (A reviewer suggested this scenario. Is there anything YOU would like to see?)_

When Sam finally realized that Dean was getting up so early to vomit, he was concerned. Dean waved off his questions, claiming stomach flu. That seemed reasonable. It would pass soon. Dean would look all queasy for a couple of hours in the morning, then he'd insist on going to breakfast and eating like a horse. Yep, that was his brother all right.

This morning Dean was in the bathroom when the waitress delivered their eggs. Sam had devoured half his plate by the time Dean came back.

Dean sauntered up, grinning. "Dude, there's this chick over there you should go talk to. She's into art and poetry and that kind of crap. Right up your alley."

"Dean, I'm not..." Sam broke off at the expression gaining a familiar place on Dean's face. "You okay?"

One hand covered Dean's mouth and he spun around, racing for the bathroom.

"Dean!" Sam kept his eyes pinned to Dean's back as his brother made a frantic dash for the bathroom. Crap. It wasn't getting better, despite Dean's claims to the contrary. Sam hoped their waitress wouldn't clear the table while he was gone, he wasn't finished yet.

Sam followed his brother into the bathroom, which housed a urinal and two stalls. Dean was inside one stall vomiting viciously. Sam felt a little queasy just listening to him. He waited until Dean sounded done, something he was unfortunately becoming quite good at.

"Dude, you're going to have to see a doctor," Sam insisted. "This has been going on for weeks."

Dean spit into the toilet before turning his head. "No it hasn't. Just a few days. It's some kind of stomach flu."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're probably right about the stomach flu part, but it's been more than a few days. We're talking weeks."

Dean wiped his mouth with some toilet paper and flushed. "Nah."

"Dean, you can't be in denial about everything." Sam took a deep breath, knowing this was not the way to convince his brother of anything. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd see a doctor. For my peace of mind."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Give me a few more days. I've nearly shaken it." He went over to the sink, rinsed out his mouth. "But get rid of the damn eggs. They smell disgusting."

"The eggs?" Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Whatever. I'll meet you at the table."

"Be there in a minute." Dean stood at the sink, holding himself up with both hands on the white countertop. Sam didn't care what his brother said, there was something really wrong. Dean normally didn't get sick and when he did, it never lasted this long.

Sam made his way back through the restaurant, found their waitress at their table. "Go ahead and take those," he told her. "My brother isn't feeling very well."

She clucked in sympathy as she took the dishes. "Should I bring you the check?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. How about a short stack? I'm still hungry."

She winked at him. "Tell you what, since your brother couldn't eat his, I'll take it off the bill."

"Thanks. We really appreciate that," Sam told her sincerely.

She walked away and Sam could swear she put a little extra sway in her hips. He chuckled to himself as he watched appreciatively, waiting for Dean to get it together and come back out. Finally Dean emerged from the bathroom and appeared like his old self. He wasn't even pale, which threw Sam's next doctor argument right out the window.

"Where's that waitress?" Dean asked, looking around. "I'm starved."

"Starved?" Sam asked, taken aback. "Dean," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "you were just, like, puking your guts out!"

"Guess I worked up an appetite." Then Dean made a face. "Just not for eggs. Seriously, you can smell them from here. That's nasty."

Sam started to argue, but really, what was the point? Instead he made a mental note not to order eggs until Dean was over this stomach flu thing. The waitress glided back by to check on Dean, who ordered pancakes and a double helping of bacon on the side. Crispy bacon. If it was limp, Dean threatened to send it back. Then Dean turned a broad grin on Sam.

"So. Any leads?" He picked up his silverware, inspecting it. Then he started polishing his fork with a napkin. "Damn, don't they have a frigging dishwasher?"

Sam watched as his brother, whom he had once seen eat a sandwich that had dropped on the sidewalk, clean his fork. "What is it, Dean?"

Dean held up the fork. "You see that?" he demanded. There were a couple of waterspots. "That's disgusting. I'm getting a manager." Before Sam could protest, Dean was up and off.

Sam put his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. He was definitely getting a headache. Yep, Dean was getting weirder by the day.

The manager apologized profusely and got Dean some clean utensils. After the waitress served their replacement meals, Dean practically inhaled his. How anyone who just vomited that much could possibly eat anything was beyond Sam. Sam insisted on waiting about fifteen minutes after eating to be certain Dean would keep the food down.

Back at the motel, Dean examined the bathroom. Then he rushed out the door to complain to the management of the motel. Sam didn't even try to stop him, Dean was just too far gone right now.

He came back, a little red in the face. "Come on, Sam. We're changing motels."

"Why, Dean?" Sam asked, not bothering to look up from his computer screen.

"Because they won't fix the water spots," Dean said plaintively, as though it were a perfectly reasonable request. "So I checked us out. Let's go."

Sam heaved a put-upon sigh. "I take it there's no talking you out of this?"

Dean shook his head, grabbing his stuff and packing. Sam set about packing his things as well. Dean paused as he picked up the first aid kit. He opened it, checked the contents.

"Sam? Did you buy more tampons?" he asked.

Sam stared hard at his brother, waiting for the joke that had to follow that line. Dean looked up, staring, waiting for an answer.

"No. Why would I do that, Dean? You're the one with the thing for tampons in the first aid kit." He watched, puzzled, as Dean frowned and counted them.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam demanded.

"There are too many," Dean said absently. "You sure you didn't buy any?"

"Dean, the last damn thing I'd do is buy tampons. What do you mean there are too many?" Sam was getting seriously worried now.

Dean's head popped up and the lid of the first aid kit snapped shut. "Nothing. I must have counted wrong." He shoved it under his arm and picked up his duffel. "Ready?"

Sam rolled his eyes. One more for the weird column. "Go ahead, I'll check the bathroom."

"Thanks. Don't think I could stand going back in there." Dean's nose wrinkled in disgust.

Once Dean was outside, Sam collected their toiletries from the bathroom. He paused when he saw the prescription bottle. Sam checked it. Oh, right, Dean's testosterone supplements. How could he forget about that? Dean had been taking some kind of supplement since he was about twelve. Sam didn't realize his brother still did, though. He remembered all those doctors they had to take Dean to when they were kids. Dean hated, hated, hated it. He often refused to leave the motel for days afterwards.

Sam snagged the pill bottle and the rest of their stuff before heading outside. Dean had the trunk open, stuffing his duffel inside. Sam added his to the Impala's huge trunk, making a point of handing over Dean's pills before shoving the rest of the toiletries into his duffel.

"Thanks." Dean stared at the bottle for a moment. "I don't remember if I took one this morning."

Sam shrugged. "Couldn't hurt to skip one day, could it?"

Dean slipped the bottle into his jacket pocket. "Nah. I'll just have to be sure to take one in the morning."

"If you're not puking your guts out," Sam snapped. At the hard look from Dean, Sam took a deep breath as he slipped into the passenger seat. "Dean, man, I'm just worried, okay? I'd feel better if you'd go see a doctor."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Just a couple of days, Sammy. I'm sure I just counted wrong."

"Counted? Counted what wrong?" Sam demanded. "How many days you've had this stomach flu?"

"Uh, yeah." A confused look crossed Dean's face. "We need to find another motel. Maybe we should just go to another town."

Sam shrugged, sinking down in his seat. "Whatever, big brother." His compliance was rewarded with a huge smile. Well, at least it looked like Dean was feeling better.

Over the next week Sam thought the vomiting had stopped until he discovered, by accident, that Dean was hiding it while at a gas station to fill up. He was about to call his brother on it after they were both in the car when Dean's cell rang. Looking relieved by the interruption, Dean snatched his cell off the car seat.

"Hello?" Dean frowned. "Steve, slow down. What's wrong?"

Dean's whole body froze. He stared off into space as a shattered expression crossed his face.

"No, Frankie's not with me. You're sure he's not at work?" Dean listened for a moment while Sam watched, curious.

"Okay. Hang on a second." Dean closed his eyes as he took a deep breath.

Dean lifted the phone back up to his ear. His voice was all business, not a drop of emotion in it. "Steve. Call Frankie's parents and his sister. If none of them know where he is, have Anna call the cops. Then go next door and talk to Miss Shelly. The cops came checking up on him last time I was there."

The last time Dean was there? Where? What the hell was this about?

"Miss Shelly probably has their cards. Have her call them." Dean nodded into the air as he said, "Yeah, I'm heading that way now. It'll probably be dark before we make it. Keep me in the loop. Thanks, Steve."

Dean dropped his phone like it burned. Then he fired up the engine and, without a word to Sam, slammed the big car into drive, leaving rubber on the pavement in his rush.

Sam wasn't fooled by the emotionless voice Dean used on the phone. When Dean locked things down that far, it usually meant whatever-it-was had seriously affected his big brother. Dean looked a lot like this after a few of Sam and Dad's fights, exactly like this while Sam was packing for Stanford and when they made the drive to Lawrence. Whatever was going on now, it was big, and Dean wasn't talking.

They had to fill up again around lunchtime. Sam grabbed some stuff to eat from the convenience store attached to the gas station.

"My turn to drive?" he asked as he approached the car. Dean just shook his head. "I got stuff to eat." Sam held up Dean's favorite food group, anything wrapped in cellophane.

Dean made a sour face. "They have any fruit?"

Sam's eyes bugged out, they had to. "Fruit?"

"Yeah, fruit," he snapped. "You know, the round looking things that grow on trees?"

Sam nodded slowly. "I know what fruit is, Dean. I'll, uh, go check. If you want."

Dean nodded again, his gaze dropping to check on the gas pump. Sam was being dismissed back to the store. Oooookay. Sam did find a couple of apples that weren't too bruised, which was surprising.

"You carry fruit?" he asked as he pulled out his wallet to pay for the apples.

"Yeah," the thin guy behind the counter replied as he counted out Sam's change. "You'd be surprised how many truckers like fruit."

"Guess so," Sam muttered as he collected his change and fruit.

Dean was already back in the car with the engine running, waiting on him and talking on the phone. Sam rushed to drop down in the passenger seat. The car pulled out before Sam could slam his door closed. "Damn it, Dean! I can't close the door first?" he demanded.

Dean's glare was his only answer. Sam listened to Dean's side of the conversation, but it didn't sound like there had been any real progress in finding this Frankie character. Dean set his cell down on the seat with a soft sigh.

"Your fruit," Sam said, holding out the plastic bag of apples.

"Two? Awesome." Dean reached in with one hand while taking the ramp on to the highway. He crunched the apple noisily while Sam ate his barely edible microwave burritos. Sam was starting to think Dean's apples sounded really appetizing.

"So," Sam wadded up his trash, stuffing it back inside the plastic bad, "where are we going?"

Dean shifted in his seat, tossing his second apple core into Sam's trash bag. "Just a little town."

"Does it have a name?" Sam prodded.

A loud sigh filled the Impala. "Pearland," he replied.

"Never heard of it," Sam said.

"It's just a spot on the map, Sam," Dean replied, starting to sound testy again.

"So why are we going?" Sam asked. "Who is Frankie? Hell, who is Steve? Or Miss Shelly?"

He watched a muscle in Dean's jaw jump as his face went rigid. Right, too many questions.

"Okay, just tell me why we're going," Sam prompted. "I'd like to know what to expect when we get there."

"Friend of mine is missing," Dean said as though he had to force the words out.

"You think it might be something supernatural?" Sam asked, wondering if he could get a good satellite internet link in a moving car.

"Worse," Dean said with a quick sideways glance. "People." Sam watched his brother swallow hard as his eyes returned to the road.

Ten minutes later Sam decided to try for more information. "What's your friend's name?"

Now Dean's glance looked kind of worried. "Frank."

"I thought you called him Frankie on the phone," Sam said, his curiosity growing. Why was Dean being so evasive? Sam made friends at Stanford. Why shouldn't Dean have some friends he didn't know?

"Yeah, uh," Dean cleared his throat, "slip of the tongue."

Okay. A friend of Dean's named Frank was missing, possibly abducted. Dean clearly called him Frankie, not Frank, but maybe other people didn't or weren't supposed to.

"Who called?" Sam asked.

"Frank's roommate, Steve," Dean replied. "Frank never made it to work this morning. It's Steve's day off, so he got the call when Frank's work called to check on him. He never misses work without calling."

"And Steve couldn't find Frank, so he called you?" Sam asked, trying to clarify.

"Pretty much," Dean said stiffly.

"Why didn't Steve call Frank's parents first?" Sam asked, thinking about Dean's side of the conversation he heard earlier. "I mean, before he called you?"

Dean shrugged. "You can ask him when you meet him."

Sam replayed the conversation in his head again. "He called because he thought this Frank person, your friend," he couldn't help emphasizing that, as much crap as Dean had given him for keeping in touch with the Stanford crowd, "was with you. Why would he think that?"

Now that was Dean's guilty look. Definitely. Dean scratched the back of his neck a couple of times before checking the time. "I knew this drive would take too long," he muttered. Dean took a really deep breath, let it out slow. Sam waited, unsure what to expect.

"Sam, uh..." Dean swallowed hard a few times, glancing rapidly his way. "You remember when I told you about girls, right? I mean, not the talk Dad had with you, the talk about how to get her screaming your name."

Sam's cheeks heated up at the reminder. "Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, uh, you're a guy. I mean, you're my little brother, so that's the talk you got. From me."

"Right, Dean." Sam couldn't imagine where this might be going. "So?"

"So..." Dean glanced over a couple more times before fixing his eyes solidly on the road. "If you'd been my little sister, I would have had a different talk for you."

A laugh snorted loudly through his nose. "The one about how you'd kick the ass of any guy who came near me?"

"No." Dean's clear voice cut through Sam's amusement. "It would have been about how to turn a guy into a puddle, get him to do anything for you, and blow his mind so bad sexually you'd ruin him for other women."

Sam stared at his brother, not comprehending the words coming out of his mouth.

"And then," Dean said, "I would have beat the crap out of any guy who looked at you twice."

Now that sounded more like his brother. "W-w-w-wait, wait. Just hold on a minute." Sam shook his head, trying to clear it. "What are you trying to say here?"

Dean did not look over, his eyes riveted to the road. Sam was starting to wonder if he just dreamed all that crap he thought he heard when Dean's mouth opened again.

"I haven't always been, well, locked into just one, ah...gender."

"So-so-so," Sam stuttered, trying to wrap his head around Dean's confession. "You're bi? As in bisexual?"

An odd look crossed his face, but he still did not look over at Sam. "Yeah, actually, that's a great description. I'm definitely bi." Now Dean did shoot him a worried glance. "Sam?"

"Hang on," Sam said, holding up one hand. "Still processing." He ran every person he could think of he had seen Dean hit on, and they were all women. All of them. His brother was the biggest male slut in the contiguous United States. "I've never seen you with a guy. Ever."

Dean shrugged, his attention on the road again. "I didn't want you to. I am capable of some restraint, Sam. Plus, Dad wasn't too happy about it either. He kind of pushed for the girls. Hard." Dean chuckled and it took Sam a minute to catch the innuendo.

"Funny." Sam rolled his eyes. "Wait a minute. Dad knew you were bi, but I didn't?" he demanded. "How?"

Dean grinned, though he still looked a little worried. "When was the last time you tried to slip something past Dad?"

"Stanford," Sam admitted. "That didn't work out too well."

One of Dean's hands waved as if to say 'there ya go.' Actually, it did go a ways to explain Dad's leniency regarding Dean's sexual activities. Dad might have been letting Dean do whatever he wanted, as long as it was with girls. Oh, he really didn't want to be thinking about this.

"So. Frank." Sam tried to return to the topic at hand. "He and Steve are roommates?" Sam really hoped this didn't lead to some kind of gay threesome. He knew he couldn't handle that.

"Steve's straighter than you are, Sam. Frank rents cheap and he's easy to get along with." Sam felt the car speed up. They were on a long stretch of deserted highway, hopefully there were no speed traps.

"What makes you think somebody came after Frank?" Sam said, not knowing how to ask it more delicately. "Do you think they might ask for a ransom?"

This was not their area of expertise. Sam wondered why they weren't just letting the authorities handle it. Then again, didn't Dean tell the guy on the phone to call the cops?

Dean snorted derisively. "His parents aren't loaded, if that's what you're asking. They're just average people getting by." Sam watched as his brother's knuckles turned a bloodless white from clutching the steering wheel too hard. "I don't think that's why they took him."

"And that would be..." Sam prompted.

Dean sighed, rubbing his neck again. He cast Sam a guilty look before explaining. "You remember the hot date I had after we, uh, checked out the haunted asylum?"

Sam nodded slowly. "It was with Frank?" Shit. He freaking set that date up!

"Yeah." Dean swallowed hard again, his eyes back on the road. "I met him at this bar. A couple of guys were trying to pick him up and I'm pretty sure they slipped something in his beer. I got Frankie out of there before they could pull anything, but they called the cops on me."

"The guys from the bar?" Sam demanded. Dean nodded. "Damn, some balls."

"That's what I thought," Dean replied, his voice hard. "And if they got Frankie's name, even a moron could find out where he lives."

"So you think it's the guys from the bar," Sam said. "Okay. Let's start at the bar, ask around about them."

Another guilty glance from Dean. "Sam, I really don't think you want to do that."

Sam shrugged as he argued, "This is your idea, Dean. Do you want to check those guys out or not? We could probably pull the Federal Marshal routine."

"I can't," Dean replied.

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Because," Dean said evasively.

"Because why? Dean, now isn't the time to suddenly start holding back again. I mean, you're being really straight-forward, don't stop now just because you're embarrassed or something." Sam glared at his brother in astonishment. "What the hell is left to be embarrassed about?"

Dean's hands shifted on the steering wheel, but his knuckles were still white. "They think I relocate animals that attack campers to isolated areas." He glanced over. "Or taking them out if they can't be relocated."

"Well, that's actually pretty close, isn't it," Sam mused. "Who are 'they'?"

Dean cleared his throat. "It's a small town, Sam." He shrugged again. "You could do the Federal Marshal routine, though. You really pull it off well."

"Uh, thanks." Sam rooted through their box of fake IDs. He found the Marshal one and checked it over before stuffing it into his back pocket. "Crap, I'm going to need to change."

"Go ahead." Dean motioned to the back seat. "I won't watch."

Sam paused before reaching for his starched white shirt hanging in constant preparedness in the back. "Why would you watch? You don't...uh..." Sam motioned between them.

Dean gave him a blank look. "I don't what, Sam?"

"You know." Sam motioned between them again, raising one eyebrow at his brother.

Dean's blank look hardened. "Dude, if you're even coming close to suggesting what it sounds like you're suggesting, I'm pulling this car over and seriously kicking your ass."

Sam held up both hands in surrender. "Forget I said anything."

"I'm trying to forget you're in the frigging car," Dean snapped.

"Touchy," Sam replied. "I've heard that about guys like you."

He got a sharp fist to the shoulder for that one, which was deserved, but Dean actually cracked a small smile so it was worth it.

"We're only about a half hour out, so you better get ready, princess," Dean snapped. Sam relaxed some at being called princess, it meant Dean was behaving normally. Whatever 'normal' was for Dean these days. Hell, what had normal ever been for Dean?

When they arrived in the sleepy town of Pearland, and Sam didn't spot any pear trees on the way in, he had his white shirt and black suit coat on, the Federal ID in his pocket ready to go.

"Where do we start?" Sam asked. "The bar?"

Dean flashed a brilliant smile which made Sam just a touch uneasy. "Sure, Sammy. We can start there. If you want. But don't forget, I warned you."

Warned him of what? Dean pulled into the parking lot of a large bar and grill. It looked pretty average, nothing jumped out as unusual to Sam except for the number of cars parked out front. It seemed crowded for an early Monday evening, it wasn't even dark yet. Dean parked at the end of the lot, even though there were closer spots. Typical.

Dean matched Sam's stride going in. "So why am I with you?" Dean asked as the approached the front door.

"Uh, you filed the missing person's report?" Sam suggested, pausing. "And you're my brother."

Dean nodded, reached for the door. "That should work. I'll check the place out for the assholes while you talk to the bartender."

"Works for me. Wait a minute," Sam held Dean back. "What's Frank's full name?"

"Frank Warren," Dean said as he pulled open the door. With a nod, Sam led the way inside.

The lighting inside was kind of dark, Sam had expected it to be brighter. The music was really loud too, more like a club than a bar and grill. The place was huge so it didn't feel too crowded, but it was barely sunset, the place would probably be really jumping after dark. Sam motioned to the bartender who gave him a broad smile.

"Help you?" the guy shouted, leaning over the bar.

Sam flashed his badge. "I need to ask you some questions."

The bartender's face fell. "What about?" He motioned down the long bar. "I just work here."

Sam glanced around quickly, spotted Dean walking through the far end of the room. "A couple of months ago a guy named Frank Warren was in here. You know him?"

The bartender laughed. "A lot of guys come in here, man. It's that kind of place."

That kind of place? Sam looked around again, this time paying more attention to the other patrons and less to his brother. All male. Yeah, and Dean couldn't mention that one little fact? Sam was going to strangle him.

"He was in here about two months ago," Sam told him, trying to be heard over the music. "Two guys tried to pick him up, probably drugged him. Ring any bells?"

"Hang on a minute," the bartender said, waving him off. "I'll be right back." He headed across the room to Dean. They spoke for a minute before he and Dean came back.

"Outside!" the bartender shouted, motioning at the door. He picked up a bar towel on the way and threw it at the other bartender at the far end of the bar. The other guy waved at them. The bartender led them out.

"I thought I recognized you," he said to Dean. "So is this about the big guy you picked up? The cops came around the next day, asking about his car abandoned here."

Dean shrugged. "He wasn't in any shape to drive, so we left it here." He motioned to Sam.

"Uh, sir? We're interested in the other two men with Frank Warren that day. There has been an incident," Sam explained.

"Incident? What's that mean?" the bartender asked.

"Frank didn't show up for work this morning," Sam said. "I'm looking into it."

"Already?" he asked, astonished. "I thought you had to be missing for a couple of days first."

Sam cleared his throat, stepping closer. He used his height advantage to loom over the bartender. "It's unofficial. He's my brother," Sam said as he jerked his head toward Dean. "I take people messing with my family kind of...personal."

"Family trait?" he asked, taking a faltering step away from Sam. "I saw what you did to Gary." He motioned to Dean. "Not that he didn't have it coming. He's a real creep. I'd love to run the guy off, but he's the owner's cousin or something."

"Gary who?" Sam demanded. "And do you know where he lives?"

"And his idiot friend?" Dean demanded.

"Gary and Joe Bertram. They're brothers," the bartender told them. "And no, I don't know where they live and I don't want to."

"Brothers?" Dean asked incredulously. "Those bastards are brothers? Are you serious?"

"They say they are," he replied with a shrug. "Takes all kinds, man."

Dean shuddered in disgust and Sam sympathized.

"When was the last time you saw them?" Sam asked.

"Well, they're always here on the weekends, spend a lot of money on Friday night. They usually find some guy, never a regular, get him bombed and take him home for the weekend. It's only Monday, so I doubt they'll be in before Friday." He shrugged. "Hope I've been able to help?"

Dean mumbled something, but Sam gave him a shove to shut him up. "Yes, sir. You've been a big help, thank you. We appreciate it." Sam held out a hand.

The bartender shook his hand slowly. "Next time you come in, the beer is on me." He winked as he headed back inside.

Dean laughed, slapping Sam on the shoulder as he headed back toward the car. "Looks like you still got it, Sammy!"

Sam wiped his hand off on his jacket. He fixed his eyes on his brother's back, imaging ways he might be able to get even for this. It would have to be a really good one, not just loud music and the wipers going when Dean started the car. More along the lines of something that required the use of superglue.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14** - _Hey folks! Let's go look for Frankie!! Thanks for coming to play in my gutter!_

"Dean, stay back. Let me take the lead on this, okay?" Sam asked as they stopped at the apartment complex where the Bertram brothers lived.

Dean's hands flexed on the wheel, but he gave a tight nod.

"And if you already had a run-in with them, maybe I should go alo-"

"No!" Dean snapped, eyes blazing with barely controlled fury. "Don't even think about it." He reached behind him to pull out his Desert Eagle. Dean checked the clip before returning it to his back waistband. "Let's go."

Sam didn't like that tone in his brother's voice, he never had. It was cold and hard and meant Dean would do whatever it took to get the job done, regardless of who or what they would need to go through to do it. He motioned his brother back as they approached the apartment. Sam gave a loud, authoritative knock.

The door cracked open, a dark eye peering through the crack. "Yeah?"

Sam flashed the badge. "Federal Marshal. I have a few questions for you regarding a Frank Warren."

The door opened wider. "I filed that complaint over two months ago," the man said, leaning on the doorframe. "Why are you following up on it now?"

"Because Frank Warren is missing," Sam said in his most professional manner. "We're investigating everyone who-"

Dean spun from the wall where he had been pressed, out of Bertram's sight. He grabbed the man by the shirt, slammed him into the wall and pressed his forearm against his throat. "Check out the apartment, Sam," he growled.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "Dean, I thought we agreed to do this my way?"

"Your way sucks," Dean snapped. His chin jerked at the apartment as his arm pressed tighter against Bertram, the guy's face turning red. "Hurry up."

Sam rolled his eyes as he pushed the door open. It was cleaner than he expected. The other brother stood in the small kitchen, staring wide-eyed at Sam.

"Name?" Sam demanded.

"Uh, Joe. Joe Bertram." He glanced nervously toward the door. "Where's my brother?"

"Outside," Sam said shortly. He checked through the rest of the small apartment, but there wasn't a sign of anyone else. He came back to Joe, still in the kitchen but angled so he could look out the door. "Do you know Frank Warren? You and your brother tried to pick him up in Mart's a couple of months ago?"

Joe shrugged, eyes darting between Sam and the open door. "Uh, that looks like the guy who beat my brother up that day," he said nervously.

"Probably," Sam admitted. "My brother is like that," he informed Joe while staring right at him.

"Look, man, Gary just wanted to get even, you know? Your brother worked him over pretty good. That Frank guy is lucky Gary didn't take a bat to his car." Joe swallowed hard again. "I swear, we haven't seen him since. Honest."

Sam had the feeling the guy was on the level. He headed back out the door where Dean was whispering dire threats to Gary.

"Get anything?" he asked calmly, hoping it would help settle Dean down a little. Sam couldn't recall seeing his brother quite this worked up before.

Dean growled low before shaking his head, clearly frustrated.

"I don't think they had anything to do with it," Sam said. "Let's go talk to Steve."

"C'mon, Sam," Dean said in his deep, dangerous voice, "just let me hurt him a little."

"Wasting time, Dean," Sam said.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean's arm dropped away and Gary took a deep breath, rubbing his sore neck. Sam couldn't work up enough sympathy to feel sorry for him. He clamped a hand on Dean's shoulder as they headed for the car.

"Don't leave town," Sam called over his shoulder as he pushed Dean towards the car. The apartment door slammed closed.

"Shit," Dean muttered. "I was sure it was them." He glared out the car window at the apartments.

"Well, now that we know who it isn't, all we have to do is figure out who it is," Sam replied reasonably. Dean shot him a nasty look as he pulled away from the curb.

* * *

Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!! Why couldn't it have been those two idiots? They were easy to find. Dean had been so sure Frankie would be there, so sure this was almost over. Now it felt like they were back at square one. SHIT!

He resisted pounding his steering wheel in frustration, not wanting to upset Sam too much. Sam was taking all this pretty well, much better than Dean had hoped for. The fallout from it would come later, he was sure, after everything had settled. But there was no time to worry about it now.

When he turned down Frankie's street, Dean wondered if he should park on the street or in the garage. If he parked on the street, all the neighbors would see and recognize his car. What if one of them was responsible? Then Dean would just be alerting them to the fact he was home. No, the garage would be safer.

He pulled into the drive, reaching under his seat for the garage remote. He could feel Sam's eyes on him as he opened the garage door. Dean parked inside the garage, avoiding eye contact with Sam at all costs. He grabbed their duffels from the trunk before waiting for Sam at the garage door. Sam walked by him with an amused and baffled look. Dean hit the switch to lower the door before leading them to the front door. He chose to knock instead of using his key.

Steve opened the door. "Thank god!" he said, opening the door wide.

Dean dropped their bags against the den wall. "Hey, Steve. This is Sam." He jerked his head at his brother.

Steve's eyes widened. "Really? Your brother Sam?" He smiled as he held out a hand to Sam. "Good to meet you. I'm really glad you were able to come."

"Wouldn't miss it," Sam replied sincerely, shaking Steve's hand.

"What happened?" Dean demanded before they wasted any more time on pleasantries.

Steve dropped Sam's hand, turned to face Dean. "I don't know, man. Frank didn't show up for work this morning, and that's not like him. Nobody's heard from him. I mean, if he wasn't with you, I couldn't imagine where he'd go."

"Police?" Dean asked.

Steve shook his head. "Mrs Warren and Miss Shelly both called, but they won't declare him a missing person for seventy-two hours, unless there's a ransom or something."

"Has there been a ransom?" Sam asked. Dean rolled his eyes. Freaking one-track mind.

"Uh, no. Frank's family isn't exactly rolling in it," Steve said. "Dean, I've been thinking. It might be Jake."

"Who is Jake?" Sam asked, inserting himself between them.

Steve's attention focused on Sam. "Jake is Frank's ex. Well, if you can call him an ex, they only dated for a couple of months, until I threw the bastard out."

Whoa! Hold on!

"You threw him out?" Dean asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Steve bit his lip, looking nervously between Sam and Dean. "Does he, uh, know that..." Steve gestured toward the master bedroom.

"Yeah, he does," Dean snapped. "Now tell me about throwing out Jake."

"Well, uh, do you remember that time I kind of, well, walked in on you and Frank?" Steve asked, not looking nearly as embarrassed as he sounded.

Dean nodded curtly, motioning for Steve to get the hell on with it already.

"Well, it was on purpose. There was one night I kept hearing sounds that were pretty similar to you two." Steve paused to chuckle, then his face turned serious. "Anyway, I decided to check on them. Nothing perverted, you know, it wasn't like I wanted to watch. I'm not like that. Well, geez, Dean, you know me well enough to know I'm not like that."

"Steve!" Dean snapped. "You're babbling. Get to it already."

"Sorry." Steve took a deep breath. "Jake had Frank tied up and was doing...things...to him." His face flushed, but it wasn't with embarrassment, it was anger. "Frank was not enjoying it. I threw Jake out on his naked ass and called the cops. Frank wouldn't leave the house for like three days afterwards. It took me and Lisa months to convince him what happened wasn't his fault."

"Who is Lisa?" Sam asked.

"Frank's sister," Dean said, watching as Sam mentally filed away all the new information. "That's why Frankie didn't date after Jake?"

"Not until he met you," Steve confirmed.

"Do you know where this Jake lives?" Sam asked. "Or at least know his last name?"

"Jake Jefferson," Steve replied. "I never knew where he lived. Couldn't stand the guy, even before I caught him doing...that...stuff." Steve shook, like a cold chill just ran through him. "Sick bastard."

"Sam?" Dean said, but his brother was already halfway across the room reaching for his laptop bag.

"On it. Give me twenty minutes."

Sam set up his laptop on the kitchen table while Dean made coffee and Steve watched, fascinated. He supposed it was more novelty than anything, to learn the brother Dean was always talking about was real. Dean passed around the coffee when it was ready, glancing over Sam's shoulder.

"Got anything yet?" Dean asked casually.

"Almost," Sam said, sipping his coffee. He paused to stare down into his mug. "That's good."

"Back to work or I'll take it away," Dean told him.

Sam shot him a nasty glare as he took another sip. "That's it," he cried triumphantly, setting the mug down with a splash. "I'm in. Jake Jefferson?" he asked, shaking the hot coffee off his hand.

"Yeah." Steve craned his neck to see the laptop screen. "What is that? It kind of looks like you're in a police system."

"That's because I hacked the local police database. Since you called the cops on Jake once, he has to be in the system. Here we go." Sam's hands danced over the keyboard. If Dean weren't so worried, he'd be bursting with pride. "Wow, he has a quite a record. Aggravated assault, sexual assault, just about every kind of assault you can name." Sam let out a low whistle. "And we have two addresses. Dean?"

Dean produced a pen from the kitchen junk drawer and handed over the magnetic notepad off the fridge. Sam raised an eyebrow over the playful kittens on the top of the notepad, and Dean was grateful he didn't say anything. Sam scrawled out the two addresses before handing the pad over to Dean.

"Know where they are?"

Dean squinted his eyes, trying to make out the last address. "If that's a 'g', then yeah, I think so." Dean pushed back from the table. "Let's go."

"I'm coming," Steve said, standing with them. Dean started to protest, but Steve cut him off. "He's my best friend, Dean. Let me come."

Dean shrugged, heading out of the house. "No dog?" he asked, glancing back at Steve.

Steve shook his head. "Bobby's still trying to find one for us."

"Bobby?" Sam asked as he dropped into the passenger seat of the Impala. "You know Bobby?"

"Sure." Steve climbed into the backseat. "Bobby's a great guy. And man, he makes a mean fried turkey."

Sam turned to stare at Steve in disbelief as Dean backed out of the garage. When his brother faced front again without saying anything, Dean knew. Sam was holding back. Yeah, the fallout would definitely come later.

"One of those addresses is in an industrial area," Dean said. "Let's check it out last. I mean, it would be more remote and less likely anyone would hear," he said quickly, before his voice could betray him, "but the residential one is on the way anyway."

"Sounds good," Sam replied. He glanced back over the seat at Steve. "Has Bobby been to the house?"

"Sure. A few times," Steve replied as Dean cringed.

"Holidays?" Sam asked, an edge to his voice that Steve probably couldn't distinguish.

"Usually just Thanksgiving," Steve replied. "I wouldn't know about Christmas, I'm always out of town visiting my parents. They retired to Florida. I don't know why; they get hurricanes down there."

Dean ran a hand over his face to tug at his collar. Was it getting warmer in here? And why was he feeling guilty? Sam was the one who took off to college, not him. Sam was the one who never called.

Good thing this was such a small town, they were already at the first address. Dean paused at the side of the car. He met Sam's steady gaze. "Back-up?" he asked.

Sam's eyes danced in the streetlights as he surveyed the depressed city street. "Yeah."

Dean popped the trunk, tossed a sawed-off to Sam before taking one for himself.

"Loaded?" Sam asked, checking the action.

"Rocksalt," Dean replied. "Not lethal," he grinned at Sam, "but it hurts like a bitch."

Sam groaned as he fell in step with Dean. Dean waved for Steve, who was watching them with wide eyes, to stay at the car. Closer to the house, Dean gave him the hand signal to go around the far side. He waited until Sam was in place before edging his way on this side. Peering in the windows, Dean noted the house was dark. It didn't look like anyone was home. He headed for the front door. No security. Sam ought to be around back by now. Dean picked the lock, let himself inside. It was still dark.

He slipped a pocket-sized flashlight out of his jacket pocket to check things out. The creaking of hinges was Sam coming in the back door.

"Well?" Sam whispered.

Dean shrugged. "Looks empty. Check out the bedrooms, I'll look out here."

Sam nodded, heading for the back of the house. Dean rummaged through the den – nada. There was a large dining table in the next room which looked covered with papers. Dean used his flashlight to glance over it. An image of Frankie made him freeze. Dean shifted through the papers. There were more pictures, all of Frankie. Frankie coming and going from the house, work, different restaurants in town. Fighting down panic, Dean used his mouth to hold his light while he read over handwritten papers, which detailed Frankie's schedule over the past few months, right down to the minute. He had to grasp the edge of the table to remain upright as a wave of nausea swept over him, blacking out his vision.

"Hey, find something?" Sam's voice came down a long, dark tunnel. "Dean!"

When he could see again, Dean found he was sitting at the table. The damn table covered with pictures and schedules and... He covered his mouth with his hand, forcing back the bile rising in this throat.

"Breathe, Dean," Sam said gently, hands massaging his shoulders. Sam stopped to reach over and grab a picture of Frankie. "Is this him?"

"Y-yeah," Dean said weakly.

"Is he as big as he looks?" Sam asked, sounding surprised.

"Bigger," Dean replied on automatic, not even meaning to insert the weak joke.

"At least you're feeling better," Sam said as he dropped the picture. Both hands returned to rubbing his shoulders. "Dude, I don't think I've ever seen you pass out before."

"I didn't pass out," Dean snapped defensively. "Chicks pass out."

"Blacked out?" Sam said.

"Shut up," Dean snapped, pushing away from that god-damned table.

Sam shuffled through the papers. "This is evidence," he said. "Maybe we should take it with us?"

Dean snarled at the table from across the room. "You're not putting any of that crap in my car!"

"Wait a minute." Sam held up a paper. "This looks like the layout of a warehouse." He waved it triumphantly in Dean's direction. "I'll bet it's where he took Frank. Let's see if that second address matches this."

Dean bolted for the door, hoping for some fresh air outside. Jake was dead, so dead. Walking corpse. Well, Dean planned to break lots of bones, at the very least.

In the car, they took off at breakneck speed for the industrial area of town. A couple of blocks out, Dean slowed the car to a crawl and shut off the headlights. There was a reason he kept his car black, other than the fact it looked so damned cool. Black was hard to see at night. Even if you heard the motor, there was a good chance you wouldn't notice the black car. It was perfect for stakeouts, too. Nobody ever noticed his girl when he was parked on a dark street. He parked a street away where a streetlight was out. Perfect.

Metal buildings with eight foot cyclone fences lined the street. Some of the older buildings had rust spots. Dean gritted his teeth, clutching his favorite shotgun tight. He exchanged a hard look with Sam as he pointed out the right address.

Sam nodded. It was time. Frankie had damn well better be in there.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15** – _I've been told I'm EVIL for leaving the last chapter like that. Well, I must not be completely EVIL, because I only made you wait ONE day for it. And I couldn't post it last night – the AWESOME season premiere was on!!_

* * *

"Frank-eeee."

The voice taunted him, over and over, the same thing. He wished he had known what a sick bastard Jake was before they started going out, then he wouldn't be in this fix. Frank tried opening his eyes again, to see what Jake was planning to do to him now, but the bright lights were still on. They flooded his eyes, blinding him. White spots danced behind his eyelids even after he squeezed them shut.

A loud cackling laugh filled his ears. Frank mentally worked on an alibi for Dean, since Dean was going to kill this bastard. He could say they were at home, both of them. Steve hated Jake, he might be convinced to say he was there too.

"Frank-eee. That's what he calls you, isn't it?" Hot breath brushed his ear. Something wet ran up the outside of his ear, probably a tongue. Frank shuddered, more from surprise than anything. "Can he do the things to you I can? Can he make you beg?"

Frank's face burned with shame at that memory. Why the hell did he ever agree to let this twisted psycho tie him up that night? At least this time he had clothes on. For now. Jake had been threatening to cut his clothes off since arriving after work. And here Frank had been thinking it was hell to be tied up in an unused, unairconditioned storage warehouse all day. That had been nirvana compared with this.

Something wet ran down the side of his face. Frank jerked away, realizing too late it could be water. He was so damned thirsty. He turned back into it, his mouth open, but the tantalizing trickle was gone. Again the taunting laughter.

"Oh, no, Frank-eee. No water for you." A hand caressed his cheek. It was wide but too soft. Frank's tastes had definitely changed. He liked the feel of rough skin moving gently over him, hard calloused fingers that knew the softest touches.

"You haven't been a good boy, now have you? Only good boys get water."

"Melodramatic much?" Frank croaked, his throat rough and dry. He really wished he had at least had some coffee before leaving the house this morning.

He knew it was coming, even before the sharp blow struck his cheek, knocking his head to the side. Yeah, Dean was definitely going to kill Jake. Frank wondered if Dean would let him help. He hoped so. He hoped he would be alive to help.

His hair was pulled tight, righting his head. "Now, now, Frank. Why don't you try being good? You used to be good for me, before that busybody of a roommate of yours interfered." He felt something cool and smooth, metallic, on his forearm. "I'll have to thank him properly for that. After."

Frank tried to swallow in his dry throat. "After what?" he whispered.

The hot breath was on his ear again. "Now that's for me to know," the voice switched to his other ear, "and for you to find out."

The metallic object slid up his arm. Frank thought it didn't do anything until he felt something wet. He squinted against the bright lights at his left arm. Blood welled up from the fresh cut, leaking and dribbling down his arm making his wrist wet and his stomach twist and flip.

"You know, you are wearing far too many clothes." The knife reflected the bright lights, flashing as Jake made short work of one sleeve.

"That's better. I don't want to be greedy." Jake laughed again, low and long. "We have all the time in the world, don't we? Pretty boy is out of town. As usual." The flat part of the knife blade ran along his cheek. Frank could feel the shallow scratch in his skin.

"I bet he doesn't even notice you're missing until Sunday, when you miss your regular phone call." Jake gave him a glacial smile. Frank squinted past the lights at Jake. "Yes, I know all about your little phone sex. Pathetic."

"Jealous," Frank croaked. "Must not be gettin' any."

The next slap Frank enjoyed, it meant Jake wasn't using the knife. He wondered how long it would take for Jake to just kill him. Sick bastard probably wanted to drag this out, make it last. Well, the longer it lasted, the more time there would be for Dean to arrive. He wasn't sure why he was so certain Dean was coming, but he just knew. Could be wishful thinking. Could be faith.

"See? That's not being good." Jake was starting to sound angry. Maybe Frank needed to keep his big mouth shut. "Maybe you need to be punished."

Yeah, because so far things were all cotton candy and rainbows. There was a loud noise, like a blast, which tore through him. Frank heard the tinkling of broken glass. Then he heard a second blast and a gasp from Jake. Oh, please, let Mom have called the cops.

There was another noise, not as loud or maybe his eardrums just weren't working right anymore, and more breaking glass. The heat from the bright lights was mercifully gone, as well as the light. Frank peeked through barely slitted eyelids. Jake was doubled-over, holding his stomach.

"Hurts like a bitch, don't it?" Dean's voice echoed in the large warehouse. Oh, thank god!

"Dead meat," Frank whispered.

Jake turned, still doubled-over, knife in hand. Shit, he really had to learn to watch his big mouth. Frank tried to move, to knock his chair over on the side, but it was wide and really sturdy.

"Drop the knife!" a second voice shouted. "Drop it now!"

Jake smiled into the dark corner where the second voice came from. "If I can't have him," he said, "neither can-"

Frank jumped back as far as he could, pressing himself into the back of the chair, as a dark form hurtled between him and the knife. He heard grunts and then a familiar growl. The two men on the floor rolled and Frank couldn't make out which was which. He squinted, his eyes taking a while to adjust after the bright lights, white spots dancing in his vision.

Now they were on their feet exchanging blows. Frank wanted to call out, but he couldn't tell which one was Dean and he certainly didn't want to distract the wrong one. Then one of the men was ramming the other's head into one of the broken floodlights. Okay, that had to be Dean. Only Dean would drive his point home with a sledgehammer like that.

Dean stood, delivering a last blow to Jake's jaw with his boot. He walked toward Frank in his smooth, easy gait which screamed of lethal competence.

"What're you waiting for?" Dean snapped to someone behind Frank. He felt someone working on the cuffs restraining his wrists while gentle hands turned his face from side to side.

"Jesus, Frankie," Dean whispered. "You look like hell."

Frank smiled as much as his swollen lips allowed. "You look good," he rasped as his hands fell free.

After being restrained all day with his hands behind his back like that, Frank couldn't move his arms. Dean seemed to understand, lifting each arm to rub up and down them briskly, restoring the circulation. Pinpricks of pain seared all the way down and Frank hissed.

"I know," Dean said gently, checking his wrists. "It'll go away soon."

Whoever freed his hands had moved around, cutting away the ropes binding his legs to the chair. Dean looked at the other guy. Frank followed Dean's gaze, having to tear his eyes from the sight of his personal avenging angel. The other guy was tall, muscular, with floppy brown hair. Pretty good looking, too.

"What do you think, Sam?" Dean asked.

"We better get him to a hospital," the other guy said. "Ask him to stick his tongue out, check for dehydration."

Dean nodded, taking out a pocket flashlight. "You heard him," he said.

Frank opened his mouth, hard pinpricks coursing through his calves as Sam rubbed his now freed lower legs.

"Shit," Dean hissed, shining the light in his mouth. "I hate it when you're right, Sam. Come on, Frank." Dean wrapped one arm over his shoulders as Sam did the same on his other side. He had trouble moving his legs, nearly falling as they pulled him to his feet. Frank found if he could rest all his weight on them and shuffle his feet, they moved forward. Dean still held the light in one hand, shining it so they could find their way through the warehouse.

Steve was at the warehouse door, holding it open. "I-I heard noises," he said quickly. "What happened? Frank!" Steve's face lit up, until they moved a few more steps. "Holy shit! What happened to him?"

"What the hell do you think?" Dean demanded, sounding pissed. Frank couldn't help but smile at it, knowing it was Dean's way of being really worried. "Here." Dean dug his keys out, handed them over to Steve. "Bring the car around so we don't have to walk as far."

Steve was down the street before they reached the curb.

"Just like that?" Sam asked. "You hand over your keys?"

"It's an emergency," Dean snapped. "What the hell is taking him so long?"

The Impala's engine rolled over them about that time.

"Here he comes. Relax, Dean."

Dean turned to glare behind Frank. He felt both of them moving, like they were having a silent conversation or argument behind his back. The car rolled up. Steve jumped out to open the passenger door. Dean and Sam helped him inside. Dean closed the door securely before running around and jumping behind the wheel.

"Move!" he shouted as he slammed his door closed. Frank heard and felt the back doors slam shut, nearly at the same time. Dean took off slowly. The hospital was in the middle of town, which made it about fifteen minutes from the furthest neighborhood. Dean was pulling up at the emergency entrance in five.

Dean jumped out, rushed around the side. Sam already had his door open and was shouting for help. They helped him shuffle towards the entrance until men in white with one of those rolling bed things rushed out. Frank was put on the bed, and it hurt to stretch out, his muscles cramping and complaining. He moaned from the pain, Dean's worried face suddenly filling his view.

"Frankie? What is it?"

He tried to answer, but one of the men in white brushed Dean aside saying, "We'll take it from here, sir."

Frank wanted to reach out, grab Dean by the hand, make sure he came too, but his arms still weren't working right and all he managed to do was flail around until the men in white held him to the bed. They rolled him inside, behind those notorious double doors.

* * *

Dean watched helplessly as they took Frankie away, out of his sight. All the adrenaline, anger, and frustration surged through his frame. He couldn't do this, couldn't handle it. When Sam wrapped that comforting arm around his shoulders it broke the fragile shell he had around him, shattered it like those spotlights. Dean turned his face into Sam's chest, gripping his brother's jacket for leverage, and so no one could see him.

"Steve, we'll be there in a minute. Go ahead," he heard Sam say. He felt Steve move away, heard Steve say something but couldn't make out any words.

Sam rubbed his back, making comforting sounds that were probably words coming from his brother. He couldn't understand any of it. He just kept his face buried as his emotions poured out in a torrent, helpless and powerless to stop it. After what felt like years, Dean released his brother and stepped back. He rubbed both hands over his wet face, desperately trying to dry it. Sam guided him away from the ER, away from Frankie. Dean started to pull away.

"We'll go in, Dean. But not this minute." Sam pointed down the sidewalk. "There's a bench. Let's go sit down while you pull yourself together."

Dean nodded, following docilely. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to think he had been crying. He sat next to Sam, silent and ashamed.

Sam leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. He looked out at the street, not at Dean. "So. You want to tell me about Frankie?"

Dean sighed, running a hand over his face again. "We met three years ago. I was hustling him at pool when he picked me up."

Dean watched Sam's profile, trying to gauge his brother's reaction. Sam nodded, no expression on his face.

"I started stopping by sometimes, between hunts, when Dad didn't have anything for me," he continued. "He was good company."

It had been killing Dean not to be able to share this part of his life with Sam, not to be able to say 'I understand' on the rare occasions Sam actually mentioned Jess these days.

"A few visits turned into a few more," he said softly.

Sam turned to look at him. "Eight months, Dean. We've been on the road together for eight months, and you couldn't tell me?"

Dean focused on the street, finding watching the passing cars easier than looking at his brother. "It's not that I didn't want to," he said slowly. "But, you know, after Jess..." He had to wet his lips, his mouth gone suddenly dry. "I mean, how big of a prick would that make me? Sam, sorry about your girlfriend, but I met this guy..." He snorted loudly. "And you didn't even know how bi I am."

Still didn't, Dean thought to himself.

"I couldn't do that to you, Sam," he said softly.

Sam's sigh was loud and lonely and angry, all at the same time. "I really am a selfish jackass, aren't I?" He shook his head and Dean couldn't tell if Sam was angry or what. "I mean, I knew something was up with you."

Dean shot him a glare.

"Seriously, Dean. I figured you had a real thing for somebody in this area. After that first 'hot date' I made damn sure we came back by this way the next time you seemed out of sorts." Sam shook his head again. "But I never asked you about it. As long as you were in a better mood, that was all I cared about. I never even thought..." Sam sighed again. "It never occurred to me that you might have found somebody special to you."

Dean hadn't planned on this being Sam's confession time, too. This day had already been hard enough. "So? Enough sharing and caring?"

"Not quite." Sam really looked at him this time. "What about all those women you pick up and sneak off to a back room or take to a motel?"

Dean studied his hands, his silver ring glinting in the bright lights of the emergency entrance. "Lies," he admitted, lifting his head to meet Sam's gaze. "I haven't slept with a woman, or hell, anybody but Frankie, in over two years."

Sam's eyes widened until Dean thought they might pop out, like a Japanese cartoon character. "Wow," he breathed out. "Now that's something I never thought I'd hear Dean Winchester say."

A huge weight off his shoulders, Dean rose to his feet. "Well, I'm glad that's out. I was getting kind of tired of blowing all that money on drinks for skanky women."

Sam stood facing him, still serious. "Dean, don't you dare try to keep something this big from me again. Got it?" One hand reached out, grasped Dean's shoulder and held on tight. "I know I didn't leave for Stanford the right way, and I won't make that mistake again. No matter what, we're brothers. I want to act like it."

Dean groaned over Sam going all emo. Like his breakdown hadn't been embarrassing enough. "Yes, Sam. Okay, Sam. Whatever you say, Sam."

Sam shoved Dean in the shoulder. Dean shrugged him off to head inside, check in with Steve.

"So," Sam said as he fell in step beside Dean, "I have a brother-in-law. I guess that makes you the girl in the family, huh?"

Oh, crap. Dean leaned an arm into his brother, shoving hard. "You're still a bitch."

Sam chuckled. "Jerk."

Sam squeezed his shoulder as they passed through the ER doors. "He's going to be fine You know that, right?"

Dean tried to smile at his brother, but it took too much effort. "Yeah," he said weakly.

Sam squeezed his shoulder again as they passed into the ER waiting room. Steve waved frantically at them. He shoved a clipboard at Dean, relief written all over his face. "They want all of Frank's medical history and insurance information. I don't know any of that crap."

Dean nodded, taking the clipboard as he sat. When he reached the line about relatives not living with you, Dean felt like slamming his head into a wall. "Holy shit, I didn't call Anna and George!"

Steve looked at him, wide-eyed. "I didn't think of it either."

"Who?" Sam asked as Dean scrambled to pull out his cell.

"Lisa is going to kill me," Dean mumbled as he hit speed-dial five.

"Dean?" George's voice blared through. "Did you find Frank?"

Dean heard extreme worry bleeding through George's words. "Yeah, I did."

"Oh, thank god." George's voice dropped to the background. "Anna, Dean found him!" His voice returned to the phone. "Where are you? At the house?"

Dean cleared his throat. "We're at the hospital getting him checked out, he may be dehydrated. Do you want me to call Lisa?"

"No, Anna can call from the road. We're on the way," George said. "Dean? We'll be there in fifteen minutes. Can you hold out that long?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," he lied. Dean closed his phone slowly to stuff back in his pocket. Sam was watching his every move. "Frank's parents," he explained as he hunched back over the hospital forms.

"Need any help with those?" Sam asked gently.

Dean shook his head. He preferred having something to do. When he finished the forms, Dean took out his wallet. He removed his copy of Frankie's insurance card from the hidden slot where he kept it before returning the forms to the admissions nurse.

"When can I see him?" he asked as he handed the clipboard over.

"They'll call you," she said without looking up.

An unrestrained surge of anger lashed out, down his arm, slamming his hand into the admissions desk. "I said..." he started, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Dean!" Sam was there, inserting his body between Dean and the bitch of a nurse. "Get over here," Sam said in a low voice, hustling him away. He tried glaring at her over Sam's shoulder, but Sam was kind of tall. Little brother shoved him into a chair.

"Behave," Sam warned as he took a seat opposite Dean. "I'm sure they'll call for you soon."

Dean grit his teeth as he glowered at the admissions nurse.

"Dean!"

He stood to face Frank's parents. The cavalry was here.

"What happened?" Anna demanded as she ran over. "When Steve called, I couldn't believe it." She threw her arms around Dean, hugging him tight. "I just knew you'd find him. Where was he?"

"In a warehouse," he replied stiffly, one arm hugging her back lightly.

George came up, shook his free hand. "What was Frank doing in a warehouse?" he asked.

"Wasn't his idea," Dean admitted.

"Why?" Anna pulled back to look at him. "Dean, what happened?"

When he thought back to Frankie tied to that chair, face bruised and bloody, his throat closed up.

"I'm Sam," his brother's voice interrupted. "Dean's brother. I take it you're Frank's parents?"

Relieved, Dean stood aside while Frankie's parents met Sam. He sat back down, feeling a little dizzy and that all too familiar nausea creeping up on him. Sam danced around any explicit explanation, going for vague references to an abduction, held hostage, and potential dehydration. Anna looked pale even after Sam's watered-down version, taking a seat next to Dean. He patted her knee, wanting to comfort her. She gripped his hand tightly, watery eyes staring at him.

"I always knew you were a good man," she whispered. Anna turned her attention to the double white doors in the far wall. "Why haven't they called us yet?"

"I'll go ask," George told her, rubbing her arm gently before hurrying over to the admissions desk. Anna gripped his hand tighter as they waited for George to come back with news, and Dean found it just as comforting as the fact his brother sat not two feet away.

They had to wait a tense hour, during which George called the police. Sam relayed the address of the warehouse. A cop was dispatched to the hospital at the same time another unit was sent to the warehouse. Dean tried not to answer their questions, he was too distracted by every movement behind the admissions desk and the doors that led into the ER.

Then Lisa burst in, both kids in tow, demanding information about her baby brother. To Dean's immense amusement, she harangued and harassed the admissions staff until they agreed to go check on Frankie personally. Ten minutes later Frankie was allowed visitors, but no more than four at a time since he was still in the ER. They were in the process of admitting him due to dehydration and he would be moved into a regular room within the hour.

Lisa just became one of Dean's favorite people. This Christmas he would not make fun of her pumpkin pie, even though it was terrible. He would eat it and pretend to enjoy it, just like Frankie.

Dean, Anna, George and Lisa went in to see Frank, leaving the kids with Sam and Steve. Dean checked back over his shoulder before pushing through the doors, just to make sure Sam was okay with this. Sam gave him a smile and nod before returning his attention to Lisa's daughter, who had been eager for a new audience to tell her woes of first grade to.

Dean's hands trembled as he followed the others to Frankie's ER room. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, his steps slowing when he saw Frankie through the glass walls. The big guy's face wasn't bloody any more, but the bruises stood out starkly against his sickly pale skin and a white bandage ran across one cheek. When Frankie waved for him to come in, Dean realized he had been standing in the passageway staring.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying not to imagine how Frankie looked in that damned warehouse, in that god-damned chair, with that mother-fucker Jake torturing him.

Frank's family stood aside as Dean entered, allowing him to go right up to the bed. He didn't dare pull his hands out of his pockets, they were shaking too hard. "Feeling better?" he asked weakly. The dizziness was worse now than in the waiting room. Dean blinked hard as the room spun lazily around. He thought Frankie might have answered him, but it was lost in the rush of sound and light and, finally, darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 **_- Okay, I know when I'm beat! I give, I give!! Here's the new chapter - now you people stop trying to exorcise me!! (Something like that doesn't work on something like me.)_

When Dean opened his eyes, he found Sam hovering over him. "About damn time," Sam snapped angrily. Now what did he do?

Dean turned his head to find he was spread out in a hospital bed in the ER, Frankie in the bed next to him.

"What happened?" he asked, still feeling a bit woozy, like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room.

"Don't move," Sam growled, one hand planted firmly in the center of his chest. "I told you that you weren't over that stomach flu yet, but you just had to go and prove it, didn't you?"

"Huh?" Dean focused on his little brother who looked like the chewing out hadn't started yet.

"You passed out, Dean." Sam glanced around before his eyes riveted back to Dean's. "Well, at least you did it in a hospital. Now we're getting you checked out, too." Yeah, he had his 'dead serious' look on.

Dean pressed a hand to his forehead. Oh, please, this wasn't really happening. This whole day was just one long, unending, horrifying nightmare.

"Headache too?" Sam demanded, one hand reaching for his forehead.

Dean slapped the probing hand away. "Dude, personal space!"

The sounds of sirens caught their attention. Doctors and nurses rushed out. Dean waited, propped up on one elbow and wondering who else in this sleepy town would need an ambulance tonight. It was a shame he didn't believe in coincidence.

They wheeled a man back, put him in the room opposite theirs. Dean narrowed his eyes, recognizing Jake's stupid black jacket before they drew a curtain around him. A cop followed to stand guard just outside the curtain.

"I should have popped him when I had the chance," Dean grumbled to his brother.

"Probably," Sam whispered. "But I prefer you not being wanted for murder."

"Dean?" George asked as moved to look across the way at the new patient. "Who is that? Is it him?"

Dean shook his head as he allowed Sam to force him back down on the bed. "It's nothing," he assured Frankie's father.

"All right," a woman doctor breezed into the room, interrupting everyone with mouths open to ask questions. She pointed at him. "Dean, right? I'm Doctor Smith-Jones. How long have you been fainting?"

Sam checked his watch. "I guess it was about ten minutes."

She shot Sam a nasty look that said he was the dumbest person she had met in a long time. "Not how long did it last, how long has it been going on?"

"I passed out," Dean replied with a sneer. "I don't faint. Chicks faint." He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"I thought chicks passed out?" Sam demanded, throwing his own words back at him before turning to face the doctor again. "Well, he blacked out earlier this evening, but it only lasted a few seconds. And he's been vomiting in the mornings for weeks, so I'm sure there's something wrong."

"Uh, how many weeks?" Frankie asked from the next bed.

"Shut up, Frank," he snapped irritably.

"No," Doctor Smith-Jones said. "That's a good question. It could be related. Dean?"

What kind of name was Smith-Jones anyway? "You marry the name Smith-Jones, or were you a Smith and married a Jones? Cause that's kind of warped."

She stared at him for a moment, her lips pressed together. "I'm not married. Now that I've shared some personal information with you, how long has this vomiting been going on?"

Dean sat up. Sam tried to shove him back down, but he was sick and tired of his brother hovering and pushing him around. Sam backed off after the death-glare, both hands in the air and a exasperated 'can you believe we're related?' look on his face.

"Follow me," he snapped as he jumped out of bed. He led the doctor out of hearing range. When he thought they were where neither his family or Frank's could hear, he stopped and met her gaze.

"What is it?" she asked. At least she sounded somewhat concerned now.

Dean glanced around again. He pitched his voice just above a whisper. "You're a doctor. You're aware that about one percent of the population can't be classified as strictly male or female. Right?"

She stared at him the way he expected, like he just sprouted a second head.

"More like both?" Dean prompted, hoping she would get it.

"You're talking about human hermaphrodites?" she asked slowly. Dean nodded. "Certainly I'm aware of them, but what does this have to do with you?"

Dean glared at her.

"Oh," she said in a higher pitched, surprised voice. "Really? I mean, I never would have guessed judging by... Oh, I'm sorry, that was very unprofessional of me." Doctor Smith-Jones cleared her throat. She lifted her clipboard and pen to start writing. "Vomiting?" she asked without looking up.

"Off and on for about six weeks," Dean admitted.

"You have menstrual cycles?" she asked, eyes still on the clipboard, which Dean appreciated.

"Yeah, usually about every four to five weeks," he replied.

"Last cycle?" Now she did look at him, pen poised over the paper.

Dean glanced around guiltily again. Still no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. "Almost two months ago, and it was weird."

"Weird how?" The clipboard dropped a little as she focused on him.

"Well, it was about a week late and only lasted about a day or two. I kept waiting for it to start again, but then I got busy with, ah, work. I guess I forgot about it." Dean shrugged.

She gave him a lingering look and Dean could almost see the wheels turning in her head. "You do realize there is something that would account for the nausea, fainting, and lack of menstrual cycle?"

Dean clenched his jaw and swallowed nervously. He shrugged.

"Think you can pee in a cup for me?" the doctor asked. "Let's check for the obvious first, before I order a bunch of tests."

Dean nodded as he scratched at the back of his neck again. At least she didn't sound like she would be putting him on display or in a hospital freak-show.

"Wait here," she told him. Dean waited, impatiently, for her to return with a plastic lidded cup. She directed him to a small bathroom and told him to take the cup with him back to his ER bed where a nurse would collect it. When he gave her a worried look, she promised to come get the cup herself.

Cup with yellowish fluid in hand, with a paper towel wrapped around it so he wouldn't have to touch anything nasty with his clean hands, Dean returned to the ER room. Frankie gave him a worried look and he offered a smile in return. It seemed to help, Frankie relaxed back into his bed. Sam was giving him the worried-pissy look which usually accompanied a lecture. Dean ignored it as he sat on the other bed.

The doctor breezed through a few minutes later to grab his cup before leaving without a word, despite Sam's attempts to talk to her.

Dean's stomach flipped a few times as he thought about the test they would be running. He checked his watch, wondering how long it would take. Now that he was committed to knowing, he was anxious for the results, one way or the other. His feet swung above the floor as he stared at the far wall, thoughts churning anxiously. What if he was? What if he wasn't? Could he still call himself 'he'?

Crap.

Okay, assuming he wasn't and this was just some sort of stomach virus he hadn't been able to shake, then nothing changed. Well, not much. Sam would have his own room at the house and they would have a great place to crash between hunts. And he would be getting lots more sex. Win-win.

But what if he was? He would have to call Dad, not that Dad would answer. And he would have to finally come totally clean with Sam, there wouldn't be any hiding his gender any more. Okay, so maybe Dad was right and he should have done it years ago, when Sam was old enough to understand, but the time never seemed right. Then Sam got too old, too judgmental, and it...

Dean shook his head, trying to clear it of disturbing thoughts. His shoulder was being shaken.

"Hey. Dean." Sam was in his face again. "Dude, are you with us?"

"What?" Dean stared at his brother. "Yeah, I'm here. What is it?"

Sam looked worried. "You looked a million miles away, man. You want to lay down?"

Dean shook his head, feet still swinging purposelessly. "I'm good."

"Dean?" George stepped closer, studying his face. "You know, you don't look good. Maybe you should listen to your brother and lay down."

"I'm good," he repeated firmly. Dean checked the time again. Ten minutes had passed, but it was a hospital, they had more important things to worry about than one stupid test. He looked at his watch again. Eleven minutes.

Dean gripped the mattress tightly with both hands, feet lightly brushing the hard floor as they swung rapidly back and forth. Just one damned test. It wasn't that important. The results could be life-altering, that's all. When he looked up again, the ER room was empty except for him, Frankie and Sam. His swinging feet froze. How could he have missed that?

"Where is everybody?" Dean demanded, feeling something close to panic.

"I asked them to leave for a few minutes," Sam replied. "Lucky for me, Frank has a real understanding family."

Now he found himself on the receiving end of two pairs of probing eyes. Oh, crap. He checked his watch again. Twenty minutes. Man, he did zone out, didn't he?

Sam sat next to him. "Talk to me, Dean. Tell me what that test is for. I can tell you're pretty freaked about it."

"Not freaked," Dean protested.

"Why not?" Frankie asked. "I'm pretty sure I know what it's for, and I'm freaked."

Dean met Frankie's gaze then. "You are?" he asked weakly.

"Hey, hold on," Frankie protested, lifting his hands. He winced, cradling his bandaged left arm. Frankie took a couple of breaths before continuing. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but I thought you told me it couldn't happen?"

Dean shrugged weakly. "Well, we'll know soon enough."

"We'll know what?" Sam demanded, sounding exasperated and about two seconds from pulling something dirty to get Dean to talk.

"Dean?" Now Sam stood in front of him with a pitiful voice and huge puppy-dog eyes. Damn him!

Dean sighed. How was Sam going to take this one? He hadn't even seen the real fallout from little brother finding out he was bi!

"Does it have something to do with the fact you're bisexual?" Sam asked, face still pleading with him to open up.

Frankie laughed. "Bisexual? I never thought about it like that." He laughed again. "Hey, I guess that makes be bi too, huh?"

Sam turned to give Frankie an odd look. "How would Dean being bi make you bi?" Brown shaggy hair shook in Sam's face. "I don't get it."

"Frankie," Dean growled.

"And if you two are, you know, exclusive, shouldn't that make you homosexual? Both of you?" Sam asked. Frigging kid always was a stickler for details.

"I can't be homosexual," Dean replied, choosing to look his brother in the eye. "Because Frankie and I aren't the same gender."

He glanced over at Frankie. "Yeah, I guess it would make you bi, you kinky bastard."

Frankie gave him a lopsided grin, the side of his face not as swollen twisting up the most.

"Wait." Sam had both hands up, telling him and Frankie to stop. "How can you not be the same gender?"

Dean checked his watch again. Twenty-three minutes. Where was that frigging doctor?

"Sam, you and I aren't the same gender," Dean admitted, dragging his eyes up from the time. "And before you say it, no, the chick doctor and I aren't the same gender either. I've never met anybody who's my gender."

Sam had that lost and confused look. "What?" he breathed out.

"They call it being a human hermaphrodite," Frankie said. "Best of both worlds, if you ask me."

Dean shot Frankie a glare. "Nobody did."

Frankie shrugged but the bastard didn't look sorry in the least. Actually, he looked really pleased. Probably was, because odds were this meant he and Sam would be coming by a lot more. More of a lose-win situation, but at least there was still the possibility of a win here.

"Hermaphrodite," Sam said slowly. "As in, both male and female?" He made a weird gesture with his hands that was completely lost on Dean. "At the same time?"

"Jesus, Sam. It's not like I shapeshift," Dean told him.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't even kid about that, Dean." His eyes flashed open. "So the tampons are in the first aid kit because you use them? As in, the way they're intended?"

Dean nodded, gripping the cold metal frame around the bed tight with both hands.

"And there were too many tampons. You thought you counted wrong." Sam verbally added up all the clues while Frankie watched, amused, and Dean felt totally horrified. "You've been throwing up nearly every morning for weeks, ever since your last hot date."

Dean checked the time again. Thirty minutes. Surely there was a result by now?

When he looked back up, Sam's jaw hung open and he stared with this totally amazed, disbelieving look on his face.

"I think he figured it out," Dean said to Frankie.

"I'd love to see how he acts when he's researching one of your hunts," Frankie replied, eyes shining with amusement. Dean couldn't wait for Frankie to get a full dose of Real-Sam. It should knock the amusement right out of those gorgeous blue eyes.

Sam slowly sat down, in the middle of the floor. His head twisted rapidly between the two of them.

"And he knows what we do?" Sam demanded in a strained voice, still on the floor.

Dean shrugged in response. "Honestly Sam, Frankie's a bigger pest than you ever were."

Sam buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.

Thirty-two minutes.

Sam lifted his head, staring right at Dean. "Dean, we grew up together. We were together all the time. We're brothers! How could I not know something like this?"

"Thanks," Dean said sincerely.

Sam blinked hard a couple of times before asking, "What for?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "For still calling me your brother."

Sam made a funny noise in the back of his throat, head slamming back into his hands. Heavy breathing came from behind those hands followed by some incoherent mumbling. Dean waited. Here it came: fallout.

Thirty-four minutes.

Sam slapped the vinyl floor with both hands, face masked of emotion though his eyes promised plenty was brewing beneath the surface. He stood slowly and brushed off his jeans. Little brother sat next to him again, their right thighs and shoulders pressed together.

"You're my big brother, Dean. Always have been, always will be." Sam bumped their shoulders together.

The words warmed Dean from the inside out. Even his churning anxiety seemed to settle to a dull roar. To cover just how much Sam's announcement meant to him, Dean turned to Frankie. "See? Told you Sam was more of a girl than me."

An elbow dug into his side and Dean grinned. Frankie shook his head at the two of them.

"I can see having both of you around is going to be lots of fun," Frankie told them.

Thirty-five minutes.

"You always wanted your own room, right, Sam?" Dean asked. "Frankie has an extra room."

"Oh, I don't think I could..." Dean heard the regret in Sam's voice, like he almost thought it was a good idea.

"But you have to," Frankie almost shouted, his voice sounding more strained now. "I've been saving it for you."

Dean glanced over at the shocked look on Sam's face. "How long?" his brother asked in a soft voice.

"Since Randy moved out," Frankie told him. "Almost two years now."

Sam turned to glare at Dean. "And we've been wasting money on motels?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "What money? We use the credit cards."

"Still have to pay for those," Frankie pointed out.

Dean dug an elbow into Sam's side in warning. Frankie didn't really need to know _everything_.

Thirty-six minutes.

"Maybe I should go find that doctor?" Sam asked, shoulder pressing tighter against his.

Before Dean could answer one way or the other, he saw Smith-Jones heading their way. He held his breath, hoping she was coming to talk to him and at the same time hoping she was checking on another patient. He wanted to know, needed to know, but at the same time, not knowing still gave him options. She stepped into their area. The world stopped spinning as he waited for her pronouncement, for the result that would determine the rest of his life.

"I have your test results," she announced. Her eyes shone with anticipation and Dean had a feeling he knew what the answer was. Doctor Smith-Jones clutched her clipboard to her chest and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. "Congratulations!"

"Yes!" Frankie exclaimed, his battered face beaming and both arms raised in the air victoriously. His abused limbs didn't seem to be bothering him now.

"I'm sorry I took so long to bring you the results, but I was making arrangements for our ultrasound machine. I'd like to do an ultrasound before you leave, just to make certain everything looks all right. Is that okay with you, Dean?" she asked. "Oh, before I forget, I've also taken the liberty of working you into my schedule this week. I would love to act as your OB. It's not really my specialty, but at least this way you won't have to put up with a lot of pregnant women in my waiting room." Doctor Smith-Jones held out an appointment card. "How does first thing Thursday morning sound?"

Stunned, Dean could only look at the card.

Sam took it from her hand. "Sounds fine. Thank you, doctor."

She spun around. A nurse pushed a box on wheels with a monitor hanging over the top to their area. "It's here. Dean? Shall we?" The doctor rushed over to take possession of the machine and roll it close to Dean's bed.

First he looked to Sam. Sam's facial expression and gentle shrug said 'Whatever you say, Dean. I'll back you up.'

Next he looked over at Frankie. Frankie gave him the lop-sided grin again before addressing the doctor.

"Do we get a print to take home?" he asked, still beaming.

"Is he always like this?" Sam whispered.

"Pretty much," Dean grunted.

"And you like him because..." Sam prompted.

Dean chuckled over that, grateful to Sam for easing his tension so effectively. "I'm guessing you need to move, Sam."

"Shirt up and open your pants," the doctor said. Dean had the distinct feeling there were a lot of things about being pregnant he wasn't going to like.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17** – _And we head back into the gutter – hurrah!! To any new lurkers out there – welcome to my gutter! (Oh, and in answer to what exactly Frankie looks like, the lead actor from the television series __Chuck__ is pretty damned close. He's a gay Chuck with a few more muscles.)_

It had nearly taken an act of God to get Sam out of the hospital, but asking little brother to drive Steve home had worked. At least for now. Dean was pretty sure his little brother would be showing up soon. Frankie's family was leaving, George expressing confidence in Dean staying the night to watch over his son. Somehow Frank's parents always knew when they needed a little time alone.

A nurse came in to check on Frankie just as his parents picked up Lisa's youngest and carried him out, forcing her to leave for the night. Dean could still hear them 'discussing' if leaving him here for the night with Frankie, what with his recent fainting, was a good idea. Lisa actually sounded like she might be worried about him.

The nurse handed over some pills for Frankie to take before promising to order some dinner for him, since he was admitted after dinnertime. Dean's eyes didn't leave Frankie as she left, despite the fact she wasn't bad looking.

"Headache?" Dean asked now that they were alone. Finally. The last time he had been dehydrated he'd had a monster of a headache.

Frankie gave him a beaming grin again. "Headache? Dean, I feel like I could walk on air."

Dean shifted in the hard visitor's chair. "Uh, yeah. About that." He looked deep into Frankie's eyes. "Why are you so damned excited about this?"

He didn't think Frankie's grin could get larger, until then. "Because, doofus, it means you're going to be home for at least a year." His eyes danced with excitement. "A whole year!"

Dean sat back in his chair, Frankie's admission hitting with the intensity of a physical blow. "I hadn't thought about it," he admitted. "I guess it hasn't really sunk in yet."

Frankie held his hand out, deep purple bruising from the cuffs ringing his wrist. Dean slid his hand in, Frankie's warm meaty fingers wrapping around his. "It will. You want to tell me how you found me?"

The levity in his voice seemed inappropriate to the harshness of the past eighteen hours.

"Well, when you didn't show up for work they called the house. Steve got the call and called me, I guess thinking you got a booty call." He paused as Frankie gave him a chuckle and gently squeezed his hand. "I headed straight here and Sam and I found you."

Frankie's eyes shifted to his open door before resting back on Dean. "Sam seems like the kind of brother who would do anything for you. Trust me, I know the type." Frank's one real soft spot was his sister, that had been obvious from the first time they met. "Why didn't you tell him before now?"

Dean sighed, slouching down. "Honestly? I'm not sure." He used his free hand to rub through his hair. "Maybe I just don't like change. If Sam knew, it might change things between us."

"If Sam knew about you, or about us?" Frankie asked and he didn't sound nearly as lighthearted as he did before.

"Both." Dean sighed, eyes dropping to the worn white sheets. He shifted to rest both of his arms on the bed, used his free hand to wrap tightly around Frankie's forearm. "After the last time I was home, I planned to tell Sam. I hated all those months we had to be apart. But then we got that call from Dad, and Sam and I had that huge fight..." he sighed heavily.

"I remember," Frankie said. "Dean, can you look at me?"

Dean took a deep breath before forcing his gaze to meet Frankie's. He had expected to see disappointment, frustration, and maybe even anger, not the loving gaze which met his.

"You're a good big brother," Frankie said in a gentle voice. "Sometimes when I see how much you're willing to sacrifice for Sam, I have a better understanding of my sister. Why she's such a pain." A soft smile graced his split and swollen lips. "It just makes me love you that much more."

Dean stared for a moment, not understanding. Frankie should be pissed that it took something this drastic for Dean to finally tell Sam about them.

"You don't have to get it," Frankie told him after Dean sat there staring for a while. "Just take my word for it that I'm not upset with you." His beaming grin returned. "So. Want to talk about names?"

"Names?" Dean asked blankly.

"Yeah. Names. For the baby?" Frankie's hand tightened around his. "Wow, this really has thrown you for a loop, hasn't it?"

Dean leaned down until his forehead rested on Frankie's arm. He nodded against the warm flesh, taking comfort in the fact he could feel the warmth of Frankie's body and smell his distinct scent. Alive. Frankie was alive. They found him in time.

* * *

After dinner, Frank managed to convince Dean to come close enough to the bed to rest his head on the mattress against Frank's side. He ran his hand over Dean's short hair, likening it in his mind to a plush bear. With repetitive, soothing strokes, he was able to coax Dean to sleep. Poor guy probably needed it, he looked like he had really been through the wringer today.

As he stroked the soft hair, Frank lost himself in thoughts of Dean being home for days on end and his private prayers of a baby being answered when the sound of a throat being cleared broke his reverie. He froze, his hand resting against Dean's head, as his gaze shot over to the source of the noise.

Sam stood watching with a stern expression, like maybe he didn't particularly like what he was seeing. Frank recognized the look from John, whom Sam seemed to favor in manner much more than Dean did.

"Is he really asleep?" Sam asked, moving on tiptoe to look closer. "He's pretty good at faking it."

Frank kept his hand where it was, listening to Dean's steady breathing. "I'm pretty sure he's out," he replied softly.

Sam picked up one of the other chairs to set down within touching distance of Dean. He sat lightly, and despite his large stature appeared capable of moving swiftly. Well, he had been raised by John, he might be just as capable as Dean. Sam stared coldly at him for several minutes, until a cold chill crept up Frank's spine and thin trickles of sweat broke out from his temples. He kept his hand on Dean's head, soft hair tickling between his fingers, drawing comfort and reassurance from being so close.

"Three years, huh?" Sam finally asked, voice devoid of any warmth.

Frank nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Dean said he was hustling you at pool when you picked him up. That right?" Again the same cold, detached manner.

Frank gave Dean a loving look for actually telling Sam their story, not just going with a cursory explanation. "Yeah," he said, dredging his gaze up to look in Sam's accusing eyes. "I thought he was probably straight, so I got him good and plowed. But when we went back to his motel, he made me drink whiskey."

"Whiskey?" Sam asked. Frank couldn't imagine how anyone could hold his voice so flat, steady and emotionless. "Why would he do that?"

Frank shrugged one of his shoulders. "Something about most guys freaking out, making him feel like he should be in a side-show." The bitterness in his own voice surprised him but Frank wasn't backing down, not when it came to Dean.

Sam's eyes narrowed on him. "Implying something?" There was emotion now. Sam sounded just like John when he was pissed off and barely containing it.

"Not about you or John," he answered honestly.

"John?" Sam demanded. "You mean you know Dad, too?" Sam's eyes opened wide in surprise.

Clearly Dean had not filled Sam in on everything. Frank gave Sam a quick nod as he replied, "Dean and John hunted a poltergeist two years ago and he got banged up pretty bad. Afterwards, Bobby needed John's help with a demon but Dean wasn't in any shape to go, so they had them bring him home."

"Home," Sam repeated softly, eyes narrowing again.

"Yeah. Five weeks later, John showed up and stayed for about a week until he found a new hunt for them," Frank explained.

"Them. You mean my dad and Dean," Sam said in the same soft voice.

"Of course." Frank waited, but Sam appeared to have talked himself out. "It is good to finally meet you," he tried in his friendliest manner.

"Right." Sam studied the wall while Frank wondered if there was anything else he could use to coax Sam into conversation. He had almost fallen asleep when Sam spoke again. "I always figured if Dean ever actually fell for someone, he would fall hard." Sam's head turned to look at him straight-on. "But I wasn't expecting this. It's going to take some getting used to."

Actually, that was pretty reasonable. "I can understand that. Maybe if Dean had told you about..." He never had a chance to finish his thought, much less the sentence.

"Don't!" Sam hissed, jumping forward in one fluid motion so their noses were only inches apart. "Dean had his reasons, don't you dare question them," he whispered harshly, eyes blazing with anger.

Wide-eyed, Frank nodded in agreement. Just that quick, all the hostility drained from Sam's face and he sat back down slowly. Sam's eyes riveted to Dean and Frank felt as though not only had he failed an important test, but he had also just been dismissed. Feeling unworthy of showing his affection, he started to pull his hand away from Dean's head.

"Don't," Sam said again, but this time the voice was calm yet stern. "He'll wake up if you move."

With a wary eye on Dean's younger brother, because there was really nothing little about him, Frank stroked Dean's hair a few more times before closing his eyes and attempting sleep.

* * *

Dean virtually thrummed with excitement. The hospital release forms were signed and the nurse was bringing up the wheelchair to take Frankie downstairs. The only thing keeping a goofy smile off his face was Sam's brooding and hovering, over him. Everyone else was focused on Frankie, but Sam's attention was all for him.

Back at the house, Dean introduced Sam to his new room. "What do you think?" he asked, waving his hand at the nearly empty room. It had a bed, an empty chest of drawers, and a closet with empty hangers. "Oh, you need sheets."

Dean rushed out to the laundry room where Frankie kept the clean sheets. He snagged a set of twin sized sheets. When he walked back into Sam's room Sam was sitting on the bed, his duffel by his feet.

"Why aren't you unpacking?" Dean asked as he tossed the sheets on the bed.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe later."

His little brother hadn't said much since the ER last night, quiet and brooding. Dean hated it when he was like this.

"Hey, Sam!" Steve appeared in the doorway. "Can I show you around town? While we're out, we can grab something to eat from the diner and bring it back."

Sam's eyes settled back on Dean. "I don't know," he said slowly.

"Go on, Sam," Dean encouraged. "Tomorrow we have to go visit with Frankie's parents, so get out while you can."

"You heard him," Steve said with a grin and a tilt of his head. "Dean? If we ask nice, can we borrow the car?" Steve's eyebrows waggled over his eyes.

Dean took out his keys, handed them over to Sam. "Only if my brother drives." He pointed a finger at Steve. "You don't get to drive my baby."

Steve made a face.

"My car," Dean clarified.

"Let's go, Sam!" Steve said loudly, slapping the doorframe before he bounded out of the room.

Sam gave Dean a dubious look. "You sure you'll be okay here?" he asked in a soft voice.

Dean shrugged. "Sure, Sam. Why wouldn't I be?"

Sam sighed as he stood. "I'll, uh, have my phone on. If you need anything, you will call me?"

It didn't really sound like a question, more of a demand.

"If I promise, will you go?" Dean asked. Sam didn't react, just waited for his answer. "I promise."

He led Sam out of the room. "Steve, take good care of my little brother now!" he called out as they headed out the front door.

The instant they were alone, Dean pulled Frankie out of the easy chair. Dean insisted Frankie go straight to bed, not for any sexual activities, but because he needed rest. It was Frankie who insisted he stay. Fully clothed, they dropped into their large bed. Dean had never felt so relieved to have a warm body beside him. He ran an arm under Frankie's neck, wanting that huge boulder of a head on his shoulder. The closer Frankie was, the easier it was to believe they really were safe at home.

"Say it," Frankie muttered as he snuggled close.

"I missed you, baby," Dean told him, running a hand through the black locks.

Frankie wrapped an arm over his chest in a hug while Dean tightened his arm over Frank's back. Frankie skimmed his hand up Dean's chest to move his face closer. Gently he returned Frankie's careful kisses, not wanting to hurt the split lip. Just like in his daydreams, the ones he only dared to have in the middle of the night when Sam was sound asleep, Dean found himself lost in the smells and sensations of Frankie. He gave himself over to it, hungrily kissing Frankie's bruises, down to his neck.

Dean unbuttoned the fresh shirt, trailing wet kisses over Frankie's smooth skin and the angry welts where Jake had beaten him. He tried not to feel anger, not now.

"It's okay, babe," Frankie said in his oh-so-sexy voice. Those big damn hands stroked his face as they rested on their sides, facing each other. Dean closed his eyes, wanting to lose himself in Frankie again. He breathed deep, filling his sense of smell with only Frankie. Eyes still closed, he pushed Frankie's shirt aside to resume the attentions he was paying. He knew every inch of Frankie's body purely by touch and made use of his skills now.

When he reached Frankie's pants, Dean opened his eyes to see what his lover wanted. Frankie was breathing a little hard, but more like he was excited than actually out of breath. He rolled onto his back and nodded to Dean to keep going. Dean slipped his slacks down. With Frankie's physique, jeans did not fit well enough to be comfortable unless they were custom made.

"What do you want, baby?" he whispered as he tossed the slacks toward the clothes hamper. Dean moved carefully back up the bed to attack Frankie's neck again. "You want a blow-job, or for me to ride you?" he asked between long, slow, suckling kisses.

"Mmmm," Frankie moaned. "Can I have both?"

Dean laughed softly into Frankie's skin. "Kinky bastard."

"Take it off, babe," Frankie demanded.

Dean stood beside Frankie's side of the bed. He slowly peeled off his t-shirt, gratified to see Frankie's eyes riveted to him. Next Dean unbuttoned his jeans. Slowly he slid the zipper down. When he didn't move to take his jeans off, a low growl came from Frankie. That was better. Dean grinned as he kicked off his boots. He shimmied out of his jeans and briefs, catching Frankie eying his stiff penis.

"Not until your lips heal up," Dean told him sternly, "so don't even think about it."

Frankie grinned anyway. "Yes, dear."

Dean crawled between his legs. "Funny. Now shut up." To drive his point home, Dean licked from the base of Frankie's cock right up to the head in one stroke. The big guy shuddered. Much better. He took just the head in his mouth, then twisted his head around while swirling his tongue.

"Jesus, Dean," Frankie groaned. Then his hands were on Dean's head, trying to make him do what Frankie wanted. Normally he would tease for a little longer, but it had been a while and Dean was just as anxious to get the show on the road. He bobbed up and down as Frankie's fingers massaged his scalp. Before he could really get into it, Frankie was pulling him off.

Dean climbed slowly over Frankie, trailing kisses over the bruised skin. He stopped at one that was straight across Frankie's chest, like a wide ruler. "What did that?"

"Doesn't matter," Frankie said softly, one thumb rubbing along his cheekbone.

Dean locked eyes with him. "What did that?" he repeated in a harder voice.

Frankie stared at him for a moment before answering, "I'm not sure. I couldn't really see through those lights."

Dean lowered himself until he could feel Frankie's length pressed between them. He rubbed teasingly along Frankie's cock. "You're lying," he whispered. "Tell me."

Frankie shook his head, but he was breathing heavier. "Don't want you in jail."

Yeah, like watching Jake using a knife on Frankie wasn't enough to royally piss him off. He rubbed slowly up and down again. "Come on, baby," he crooned, "tell me." Still teasing Frankie, he leaned down to suckle along the big guy's jaw. Frankie moaned and shifted under him, but Dean wouldn't stop. "Better tell me," he said just before sucking on the skin behind Frankie's left earlobe.

"Mmmmmm..." Frankie's hands ran down his back to grab at his buttocks.

"Uh-uh," Dean whispered. "Not until you tell me."

Frankie sighed heavily and Dean stopped to look at him. He waited.

"I'm not sure. I think it was a broom handle." Frankie looked up at him like he was in trouble.

"Just one time?" Dean demanded, having a hard time keeping the anger out of his voice.

Frankie gave him a self-conscious half smile. "It broke?"

"It broke?" Dean asked incredulously.

Frankie shifted under him and there was a wonderful warmth entering him.

"How'd you do that?" Dean demanded as he sat back, Frankie filling him. "Have you been practicing?"

Frankie chuckled as he grasped Dean's hips. "Jealous? I thought Dean Winchester didn't get jealous."

"Yeah, well," Dean leaned over to nip lightly at an unbruised spot on Frankie's jaw, "blame the hormones." He kissed along the bruises before he whispered, "And if I find out who she was, I'm going to throw her in a haunted lake."

Frankie laughed as his big, warm hands ran up Dean's sides. "Babe, who could possibly measure up to you?"

Dean rewarded him by moving up and down, not too fast but not slow either. He didn't want Frankie exerting himself too much.

"It broke?" he asked again. "Really?"

Frankie nodded, his hands moving back to Dean's hips, encouraging more movement. "The handle went flying across the room. Jake was kind of pissed when he couldn't find it. I guess it..." he gasped as Dean clenched around him, thrusting a little harder. "It rolled under something."

Dean grinned as he continued his steady pumping. "How long, baby?" he whispered. "I don't want you getting too tired."

Frankie shook his head. "Not sure I can...last...been too...long."

With one hand Dean reached under Frankie's ass, pulling him up slightly on one side. Now each thrust hit that sweet spot, which would hopefully allow them to climax together. Dean started going a little faster, a little rougher, the closer he became. He watched Frankie carefully for the signs. When Frankie's face took on a strange, pinched look, Dean figured it was time. He thrust hard and sure until he felt Frankie pulsing inside him. His own orgasm took over, no doubt kicked off by Frankie. He ground down on Frankie's hips, riding out his waves of pleasure.

Then Frankie's hand was on his dick, using quick determined strokes. Dean closed his eyes, rocking his hips forward to meet each of Frankie's strokes. He rested his hands on the bed as he thrust, careful not to lose the softening cock inside of him. When Frankie used his hips to thrust up again, Dean realized Frankie's cock wasn't quite as soft as he thought. He allowed Frankie to thrust up into his pulsing flesh while he fucked Frankie's hand, the two sources of sexual pleasure blotting out everything else in the whole damn world. Then Frankie's penis hardened again, growing larger inside him. Dean moaned, thrusting hard into Frankie's hand as a second, harder orgasm ripped through him. Clear fluid shot over Frankie's chest while his face took on the obvious signs.

Dean sat on Frankie until he could think again. Then he pulled off slowly, almost regretfully. He went to the bathroom to wet a handtowel to clean Frankie up. When he came back, Frankie ran a finger through the clear fluid to examine it, rubbing it between his finger and thumb.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asked, quickly and carefully wiping up the mess.

Frankie grinned at him again. "Well, I've had plenty of time to read up on human hermaphrodites lately."

Dean tried not to show his surprise. "And?" he forced his voice to be steady as he chunked the wet towel at the hamper.

"Technically you should be called a pseudo hermaphrodite," Frankie said, patting the bed next to him.

Dean pulled the sheet up over both of them, motioning for Frankie to lay with his head on Dean's shoulder again. Dean felt the vibrations of Frankie's speech through his chest.

"You can't be a true hermaphrodite unless you can reproduce both as a male and as a female. Since you don't have any testicles, I figured most likely your gonads turned into ovaries and that was why you orgasm clear fluid, because you don't produce sperm." Frankie rubbed a hand down his chest, resting it on his stomach. "The only time a pseudo hermaphrodite is sterile is when the gonads have both testi and ovarian tissue."

He was too stunned to speak for a moment. Frankie had done more research on him than he had. "And?"

"And you better stop taking those testosterone supplements," Frankie said, squirming to look at him. "If your levels are too high it can cause a miscarriage."

Dean sighed as he traced Frankie's cheekbone with his thumb. "Every time I try to take one, it comes right back up. I doubt I've been able to keep one down for the past month."

There was something wrong with what Frankie just said. Dean thought about it for a while. "Wait," he said slowly. "You've been researching the effects of testosterone on pregnancy?"

Frankie's beaten face spread into a bright grin.

Dean stared hard at him. "You've been hoping for this?" he demanded.

Frankie shrugged, his bright blue eyes sparkling. "Hey, can't blame a guy for wanting a way to keep you home more." He settled back on Dean's shoulder, his hand rubbing small circles on Dean's stomach. "I can hardly believe it," he whispered.

"Me either," Dean admitted, his eyes focusing on Frankie's hand. "You do realize I'm going to lose those six-pack abs you love so much."

Frankie laughed, his body pressing closer to Dean's. "I'll learn to live with it."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18** – _Okay, setting up for future stuff here. Working on new plot. Thanks again to everyone following this really weird tale._

Sam sat in a booth with Steve at the local diner waiting for their to-go order. He drummed his fingers nervously on the table as his thoughts ran to what he figured Dean was probably up to back at the house, which turned his stomach.

"You really ought to cut Frank some slack," Steve said.

"What?" Sam tore his eyes from the far wall to Steve.

"I've noticed the, uh, tension," Steve replied. "You aren't exactly subtle. All I'm saying is, Frank's a really good guy. Give him a chance."

Sam shook his head, fingers drumming harder. "It's not Frank. Well, it's not all Frank." He sighed through his nose, suddenly wanting to tell essentially a perfect stranger his life's story. "Two days ago Dean was my womanizing, pain in the ass, obnoxious big brother. Today he's practically married to some guy I've never even heard of, much less met before, and..."

He couldn't quite bring himself to say it out loud. Yeah, and what kind of brother did that make him? Get it together, Sam.

"And what?" Steve asked. "You don't like the room?"

Don't like the room? Talk about being the furthest thing from Sam's mind. The chuckle shot out of him, shocking him more than Steve. "No. The room is fine."

"Here you go." A good looking lady who carried herself with an air of confidence stepped up to their table with a large white bag. A few strands of auburn hair escaped from the tight bun on the back of her head to frame her face softly, making Sam grateful to have come in after she had been on shift a while.

"Your to-go order. Having a party, Steve?" She gave him a quick smile, like she had to be curious because it was a small-town thing to do, but not like she really cared. "Didn't think he would be your type."

"Knock it off, Serene," Steve snapped back. Clearly they knew each other pretty well. "After what happened yesterday, Dean doesn't want Frank going out."

Serene's brow furrowed and Sam saw the flicker of anger appear in Steve's eyes. This sounded like the beginning of small-town gossip.

"What happened?" Serene propped a hand on one hip. She was really very pretty. "They break a bed?"

Good sense of humor too, Sam noted.

All amusement dropped from Steve's face as he stood up to take the large plastic bag. "Your buddy Jake tried to kill Frank, that's all. Good thing Dean and his brother showed up, in the nick of time." Steve jerked his head at him. "Come on, Sam. Before this gets cold."

Sam followed slowly, one eye on the pretty gal watching them leave with a slack face. He kind of felt sorry for her, but not too much if she really was a friend of Jake's. She mouthed the word 'really' at Sam just before he went out the door. With a glance at Steve's back, Sam nodded to her then he left.

Outside, Steve dropped into the passenger seat of the Impala with a growl.

"Problem?" Sam asked as he started the car. "Who was that?"

Steve put the bag of food between them. "I used to think of her as a friend," he said sounding angry, "but maybe she's just always been a bitch."

"She looked pretty surprised," Sam said carefully as he backed out of their parking space.

"Good," Steve snapped. He shook himself and turned to look at Sam. "Sorry about that. All this small town crap doesn't mean a thing to you, does it?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I guess anything that affects Dean means something to me. So she's a friend of Jake's?"

"Well, she actually believed Jake's version of the night I threw the bastard out," Steve said harshly.

"Oh." Sam headed for the house. "Any idea how she knows Jake?" He tried to just sound conversational, not like he was interested or anything.

Steve checked their to-go bag. "Yeah, they grew up next door to each other."

"Well, that might explain it," Sam suggested.

Steve shot him a glare. "But she's my ex-girlfriend, she knows me better than that. She should have believed ME."

"Oh." Sam nodded, trying to appease Steve. "That's a point."

"Damn right," Steve snapped. "At least it doesn't look she she screwed up our order. I wouldn't put it past her to do it on purpose."

Sam had a thought that might explain why she took Jake's side, though he wasn't sure why he wanted to find a reason to defend her. "You don't think, maybe, she took Jake's side over yours, not over Frank's? Because you weren't together anymore?"

Steve stared hard at him for a long minute, while Sam drove down Frank's street. "You know, that could be," he said slowly. "I'll bet you're right, and poor Frank got caught in the middle. That bitch."

Yeah, okay, Sam didn't mean to make it worse. This time when a thought about why she might act like this came to mind, Sam kept his big mouth shut. It was a skill he had finally learned away at school, one he desperately wished he had learned before he went. He parked Dean's car carefully in the garage, next to a big empty space.

"What goes there?" he asked as Steve hit the switch to lower the garage door.

"Oh, Frank's car. I guess we still need to go pick it up." Steve gave him a searching look. "You and I can go after we eat. I can drive the Buick back." A small smile crept across his face. "Frank trusts me to drive his car."

Sam shook his head. "Dude, if you're asking to drive the Impala, forget it. I like not having broken legs."

Steve laughed at him as they headed for the front door. "I really don't get the love affair he has with that car. Frank should be jealous."

Sam shook his head again. "Just shows that you really don't get it." He grinned as Steve laughed again, pushing the door open.

"Food!" Dean's voice rang through the house.

It only took ten minutes before they were all seated around the round kitchen table. Dean insisted Frank sit in some kind of office chair, which was kept in a corner of the breakfast room. He choose not to think it weird, there was enough weird in his life already and that was positively normal by comparison. Dean had a permanent smirk on his face Sam couldn't quite pin down, like his brother had a really juicy secret or story to tell.

Sam eyed his brother suspiciously over their meal. "What's up?" he asked cautiously.

"You had a lot of dirty laundry," Dean said, the smirk broadening to a full grin. "There's a pile of clean clothes on your bed."

Sam started at the thoughtfulness, then realized it had to be Frank. He shifted his attention to the large man, as tall as Sam and probably thirty pounds heavier. "Thanks," he said.

An expression of surprise flickered over the bruised features. "Uh, Dean did it," he said weakly.

"Uh-huh," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Nice try, but I know better."

"I was there." Dean said, still grinning. He reached over to the kitchen counter where he picked up a paperback that looked...kind of...familiar. Panic settled in far too swiftly as Sam made a grab for the book, but Dean was just as quick as ever, yanking it out of his reach.

"Oh, no, Sammy." With a glint in his eye, he waved the book with the brightly colored red cover, with an embarrassing portrait of a man in pirate clothes sporting a bare chest and a woman swooning at his feet in a flowing white nightgown. "And I must say, your tastes in reading materials are almost as bad as Frankie's."

Sam buried his face in his hands, the heat radiating off his cheeks probably enough to warm the whole damn house for the winter.

"Gee, thanks, Dean," Frank snapped. "Hey, wait a minute. I haven't read this one. Sam, you mind?"

He peered between his fingers to see if Frank was serious.

"Wait a minute," Steve interrupted. "Is that the new one? Can I see it?"

Not quite believing what he was seeing, Frank took the book from Dean's lax hand and held it out for Steve.

"Yeah, it is. Frank, I get it after you," Steve said, handing it back.

Sam dropped his hands to better judge their facial expressions, to see if this was a conspiracy of teasing. Frank and Steve both seemed serious, and Dean had a shocked expression plastered on his face.

"So," Sam said, feeling in a retaliatory mood, "have you told Steve yet?" He met Dean's dazed eyes. "Or called Dad?"

Both Frank's and Dean's eyes widened as Steve looked at them expectantly. Sam motioned for Frank to keep the book.

"You like her stuff?" Sam asked Steve. "I haven't read that many by her."

"Oh, yeah," Steve replied slowly, like he was sure he just missed something. "I was a history major. Her stuff is all historically accurate, the sex scenes are just a bonus."

Sam almost choked on his food when Steve said that. He was starting to like these people. Steve slapped him on the back once.

"Dean? I think I like your brother," Steve announced as he attacked his meatloaf. "So what haven't you told me yet?"

Dean exchanged a panicked look with Frank that just served him freaking right. Was there anything else Dean could have found? As Sam racked his brain trying to figure out if there was something else he had been hiding in his duffel, there was a soft knock on the door. At first Sam thought maybe it was the paranoia of the job, but the kitchen went silent and he heard it again.

"I'll get it," Sam offered, pushing away from the table. He gave Dean a triumphant grin before turning around, really enjoying the fact Dean's teasing totally backfired. Like Dad always said, you needed to know you audience. Maybe if his brother spent a little less time getting knocked up...

Sam shook the uncomfortable thought away as he reached for the doorknob. The pretty woman from the diner stood there with a large white pie box. There were a few more wisps of hair framing her face now and Sam found himself staring.

She cleared her throat. "Uh, I'm sorry, but are Frank and Dean here?"

Sam smiled broadly. "Sure. Come on in." He held out his hand. "I'm Sam, Dean's brother."

She shrugged awkwardly holding the pie box.

"Oh, sorry," Sam said sheepishly, standing aside to let her in. "We're eating." He motioned to the kitchen.

She swallowed nervously as she nodded. Her back straightened and her head tilted back in a pose of confidence. Sam followed from a few steps back so he could watch her shapely hips sway gently back and forth. Funny how he didn't feel the least bit guilty about doing it, either. Maybe Dean was right and he needed to get laid.

When she stepped into view of the breakfast table, Sam heard the hush that fell over the house.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I...uh...oh, god, Frank." She took a faltering step forward, but Dean had the expression Sam had seen give a ghost pause. Sam moved to stand to the side, for a better view of the whole situation. Her eyes seemed kind of wet as she shuffled backwards.

She set her box on the counter. "I brought pie. Kind of a peace offering." Her attention darted back to Frank, she pressed a hand over her mouth and ran back out the way she had come in.

Frank sighed heavily. "Dean? You mind?"

Dean shrugged. He stood up and flipped open the pie box. "It's real pie. Wonder if it's her awesome peach?"

"Dean!" Frank snapped, and it was the first time Sam had heard him sound annoyed. "Go get Serene."

Sam heard the sound of a car engine. "I think it's too late," he said regretfully as the noise of a car driving away reached them.

"Then time for pie," Dean said lightly.

"Dean!" Frank snapped.

Dean spun around with his hands spread. "What? You want me to chase her down? Dude, you're the one who ran her off in the first place, not me." Frank averted his gaze. "Look, if you want to make nice, fine. Wait until you're feeling better and then we'll go to the diner. Okay? You can even go in to talk to her by yourself, if you want. I'll wait in the car."

Frank let out a small chuckle. "What?" He glanced up at Dean. "Not ready to let me out of your sight?"

Dean's face hardened, a sight Sam with which Sam was intimately familiar. "No."

Then Dean turned to face Sam. "Dude, don't get any ideas about her."

"What ideas?" Sam asked in his most innocent voice. "What are you talking about?"

Dean snorted as he took the pie out of the box. "We'll talk later," he promised as he set the pie on the table.

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged like he had no idea what was going on.

* * *

God, things were changing so damned fast. Serene came over to apologize? Holy crap, Frank never thought THAT would happen. Not in a million years. Guess getting the shit beat out of you could have some decent consequences, in addition to Dean coming home. And finally, finally, finally meeting Sam.

He hadn't expected Sam to suggest they tell Steve about the baby, though. That one had come out of left field, but Sam did have a point. This could be good practice for tomorrow, when they told his parents. Dean's dad wouldn't need all the explanation, but somehow Frank dreaded that one the most. He was guiltily grateful this happened after John decided to disappear.

Frank nudged Dean's knee after he sat back down, motioned to Steve with his head. He knew Dean got it, especially with the nasty look he received. Frank did it again. Dean shoved more food in his mouth and shrugged. So if he wanted Steve to know, he had to explain. Yeah, okay. He had explained it to Sam, didn't he?

And Sam wound up sitting in the middle of the floor in the ER mumbling incoherently. Okay, so that could have gone better.

"Steve?" Frank asked, setting down his fork. He doubted he could eat anything other than the pie now anyway. It did smell like Serene's blue-ribbon peach pie. "Do you know what a hermaphrodite is?"

Steve paused in eating, giving him a weird look. "Not really," he said around the food in his mouth. "Why?"

"A hermaphrodite possesses male and female sex organs," Frank explained.

Steve chuckled. "Sounds like a time saver," he said as he scooped up more food on his fork.

"Pie?" Dean asked Sam, as though they had nothing to do with this conversation. Sam shot Dean a hard glare which had Dean concentrating on his food again. Frank found the level of control Sam had over Dean rather...disturbing. He chose to ignore it. For now.

"There are human hermaphrodites," Frank told Steve, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Actually, most of them are pseudo-hermaphrodites, because they can only reproduce as either a male or a female."

Steve groaned as his fork fell to his plate. "Frank, are you actually going somewhere with this? Or is this one of those weird things you've been reading up on to keep yourself busy?" He turned to give an apologetic look to Sam. "I swear, he's not usually like this."

"You should listen to him," Sam replied in a cold voice. "It's important."

Steve looked curious and confused, all at the same time. "What's going on?" he asked suspiciously. "Does everybody know something I don't?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably beside him. Frank rubbed a hand along Dean's thigh. Hell, it wasn't like they could hide having a baby. And why the hell would they want to?

"Frank?" Steve asked, voice uncertain. "What is it? Are you one of these psuedo-things?"

Dean jumped up from the table. Without a word, he shoved past Sam in his rush to leave the room. Sam stood, looming threatening over Steve.

"You ever call my brother a thing again," he hissed through clenched teeth, "you'll regret it."

Sam raced after Dean. Frank sighed. Yeah, this was going about as well as last time.

"Dean?" Steve demanded, head snapping back to look at Frank. "Dean's a pseudo-what-cha-call-it?" His eyes were wide and round as Frank nodded. "Well, why'd you tell me if he didn't want me to know?"

Frank let out the grin which demanded so much face time since last night. "Because. We're going to have a baby."

Frank had expected an open mouth, bugged-out eyes, maybe even scoffing disbelief, but not what happened next. Steve's chair tilted backward, he wavered unbalanced for a moment before crashing backwards, his head slamming into the wall.

"Steve!" Frank moved as fast as he could. Steve was still sitting in the chair, but it was lying on the floor and his head was titled at an odd angle. "Steve! Hey! Help!"

Dean and Sam barged back in, all evidence of hard feelings gone as they examined poor Steve.

"First aid kit," Dean barked, clearly used to Sam following his orders. Sam rushed outside. He came back with a large plastic box. Sam popped it open, removed the filled plastic tray on top and set it down on the floor next to Dean. Dean rummaged in it for a moment before selecting a small bottle. He opened it and waved it near Steve's nose.

Steve started to show some signs of life. Dean had to do it a couple more times before his eyes opened wide.

"Am I alive?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah, you're alive," Dean said as he took out a penlight. He checked Steve's eyes with it. Next he held up his hand. "How many fingers?" he asked, wiggling three.

"Three," Steve said slowly.

"Okay, no concussion," Dean announced. "Sam, help me get him up."

Frank stood aside helplessly as Dean and Sam lifted his best friend to his feet. "Steve, are you okay?"

Steve rubbed the back of his head, wincing.

"I'll get the ice pack," Sam offered.

"Sit down," Dean said as he shoved Steve into a chair. "What the hell happened?"

Steve started to laugh. "Oh, Frank, you got me good that time. I was actually believing..." he laughed again shaking his head.

"Believing what?" Dean asked, the nervous edge in his voice.

"It's okay, Dean," Frank assured as he grabbed one of Dean's hands in his and looked deep into the fragile, frightened green gaze. Dean had been hiding from any kind of reaction for so long, he couldn't see when it was time to stop. "Steve lives here, he needs to know."

"He needs to know what?" Steve demanded, accepting the ice pack from Sam.

Dean gripped his hand tight enough to cut off circulation to his fingers. Frank didn't have to force the smile that spread over his face as he said, "That we're..."

Frank glanced over at Dean's brother. "Sam? Would you mind standing behind him?"

Sam moved to stand behind Steve, hands at the ready and a deep sigh, like he had no idea why he was doing this.

"We're having a baby," Frank said quickly, thinking for some strange reason if he could say it fast enough Steve would find it easier to accept.

Steve's chair tilted backward again, but Sam slammed all four legs of his chair back on the floor. He leaned forward over Steve's shoulder. "Dude, if I hadn't been there when the doctor announced my big brother was pregnant, I don't think I'd believe it either, but it's true."

"Maybe they made a mistake?" Steve asked weakly.

Sam laughed hollowly. "The doctors didn't."

The hand clutching his started shaking and was sweaty. "You know, I think Steve and I need to talk outside." He forced Dean to sit in a chair opposite his brother. Before taking Steve outside, Frank leaned down to whisper, "He's your brother. Talk to him, damn it."

Frank gave Sam a small smile before yanking Steve through the back door. Safe in the backyard, they sat on lawn chairs to discuss what the new book Sam brought was supposed to be about. They had months to bring the subject of 'baby' up again.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19** - _Okay, time for a little heart-to-heart and some morning sickness. Yes, it's back! Still working in plot here, folks, but I really do appreciate you all coming to play in my gutter._

Sam sighed as he sat in Steve's recently vacated chair. Now a total stranger was making them talk to each other? Yeah, his life sucked from the day he turned six months old and it was picking up in intensity and vacuum. Sam stared at the cheap imitation wood table. What the hell was Dean doing here? Sam had watched his big brother pick up women who could be supermodels. They weren't, but they were pretty enough.

The chair opposite him scraped the floor as Dean scooted up to the table. Sam did not look up, not quite able to force himself to look Dean in the eye. Not right now.

"Sam, look. I'm sorry."

His eyes snapped to his brother's sincere face. Dean wasn't acting. He wasn't this good.

"I guess..." Dean cleared his throat, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Dad told me to tell you when you were old enough. Like nine or ten."

"Why didn't you?" Sam demanded and he could hear just how whiny that sounded.

"Because I was thirteen," Dean replied as he slumped down in his chair. "And teenagers know so much better than their parents." He rolled his eyes. "It's not like Dad was around a lot to nag me about it anyway." He gave a small shrug. "When you were nine, you thought I could do freaking anything. I didn't want to change that."

"Dean, it wouldn't..." Sam broke off. He tried to imagine himself as a kid not freaking out to learn his big brother had girl parts. More likely, he would have teased Dean for years. "Yeah, okay, it might have changed a few things." Sam rubbed his hand through his hair roughly. "Man, I was a pain in the ass kid."

Dean chuckled at him. "Nah, you were a great kid. I just didn't want you to stop thinking of me as your big brother. Until you were about sixteen, you still came to me with all your problems."

Sam snort-chuckled, remembering. "And then I thought I knew better than you or Dad." He pointed at his brother. "That would have been a good time. It certainly would have shaken things up."

Dean's smile faded. "Wouldn't have changed anything though, would it?"

Sam figured Dean was referring to Stanford. "I'm sure I still would have gone to college. Sorry, Dean."

Dean leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table. "Dude, it wasn't college that bugged me. It was the way you did it, going behind my back like that."

Sam raised his eyebrows and spread his arms wide to encompass the house they were sitting in. "Can we just call it even?"

Dean gave him a wide, bright smile. "Yeah. But I win."

"Win being the bigger pain in the ass? Yes, you do," Sam agreed readily.

Dean tossed a chunk of roll at his head. Sam allowed it to bounce off on to the floor. His brother stared down at it on the floor for a moment. "We really need to get that dog."

"So are we good now?" Dean asked as his eyes settled back on Sam.

Well, as long as Dean was being so open and honest...

"Why Frank?" Sam asked. The question had been burning in his mind since he saw the picture.

One of Dean's eyebrows quirked up. "Why not Frank?"

"Because he's so..." Sam shrugged, unsure what his problem really was.

"Soooooo male?" Dean suggested. "I figured that part might bother you."

"Goofy," Sam finally admitted, realizing the truth of it at last. "God, Dean, you could do so much better."

"Better?" Dean sounded shocked.

"Well yeah," Sam replied. "Dude, I've seen you pick up women who could rival supermodels, don't tell me he was the best looking guy you've ever met."

"Okay, first, he picked me up, not the other way around. Like I said, I am capable of restraint." Dean shot him a glare. "And second, Frank likes me exactly the way I am. He's never tried to change me or make me into something I'm not, unless you count getting pregnant as changing me." He shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. "I don't see where I could possibly do any better. Besides," Dean leaned over conspiratorially, "he's a hunk."

Both of Sam's eyebrows shot up. Did his macho brother honestly just use the word 'hunk'? Before he could ask, Dean waved him off. "And no, I don't expect you to agree with me on that one. You're just going to have to take my word for it."

Thank god for small favors.

"So you really don't think you're...settling?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Settling?" Both of Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Sam, he's probably the best damn thing that ever happened to me. Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am. No, I'm not settling." His head tilted to one side, eyes bright with curiosity. "Is that what's been bugging you, little brother?"

Sam shrugged, running a thumbnail along the edge of the table.

"Sam, I...uh..." Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Look, I've been wanting to tell you this for a while. I understand how it was between you and Jess. Really." He sighed heavily, but there was determination in his face. "And if you wanted to, you know, talk about her..." He glanced at the back door. "Frankie's a real good listener."

Sam snorted a chuckle, picking up another roll to chunk at his brother's head. "Yeah, thanks."

"Seriously, Sam. You know what I mean," Dean said earnestly. "And I'm sure if you felt ready, she'd want you to start dating again. Lots of good lookin' gals in this town. But not Serene." Dean shook a finger at him. "She's a total bitch."

* * *

The nausea this morning was much, much worse than usual. Dean tried to tell himself it wasn't because they were headed over to Frank's parents' house, but he knew better. Just the thought had his stomach churning again. What the hell was he going to do when he got there? Puke in the bushes out front? Yeah, that was going to look great.

And there was Sam, pushing the freaking issue every frigging chance he had. Little bastard. Correction: big bastard. Big, damn, sasquatch bastard. Dean pressed his back against the bathroom wall, one hand going to the cell phone he automatically put in his pocket after he dressed every morning. It was still habit, one he wondered if he would still have six months or even a year from now. Frankie said he had to stay home for at least a year. It took the ultrasound to really ram it home, but there was Life inside him. An actual person was growing in his stomach, a person he was solely responsible for. He wondered if he would be able to pry himself away from a helpless baby long enough to even go on a 'quick' hunt. Somehow he doubted it, but who knows? In two more weeks he'd be going stir crazy here, much less a year.

Either way...Dean had a call to make. Before Sam bullied him into it, while it was still his decision, his news to give. With a weak smile, realizing they were telling their parents on the same day, Dean hit speed dial three to call Dad. It rang over to voicemail, of course.

"Hey, Dad. It's Dean. You can't call me with jobs for a while, at least a year." He paused, his courage failing momentarily. "I guess I should have listened to all those condom lectures, huh?" Dean swallowed, the taste of bile strong on his tongue. "Anyway, Frankie's really excited and, uh, I'm still getting used to the idea. Never thought it could happen, you know?" A thick wad of nasty collected on his tongue, he spat it into the toilet. "Well, I guess I kind of like the idea. I just hope you're not too, you know, upset. If it helps, I made this call before we went to tell the other grandparents. I guess that's it. You know where I am."

Dean closed his phone slowly, knowing he couldn't take back what he just said. He was shocked to realize he didn't want to either. He probably still needed to call Bobby, but that could wait for later. Maybe this afternoon. Or next month. Hell, next year – why push it?

"Babe?" Frankie's voice came through the closed door. "Are you okay in there?"

He reached over to twist the doorknob, still sitting on the floor. "Hey."

Frankie used the bathroom counter to brace against as he squatted down the to the floor. "Hey," he breathed. "You, uh, okay?"

"Yeah." Dean leaned his head back against the wall. "Just need a minute."

That sweet bruised face smiled at him as Frankie sat on the floor. "How about some company?"

Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself." But he did smile back.

"Every morning?" Frankie asked, motioning to the toilet.

Dean shook his head. "Most mornings."

Frankie's eyes sparkled despite the deep bruises surrounding them. "That sucks."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, like you're sorry."

"For being with you?" His boyish grin broadened. "Never."

"Such a girl." Dean pushed up to a stand. He held out a hand. "Come on, let's get this over with."

A familiar look crossed Frankie's face, past the bruises and swelling. "Say it."

Dean chuckled at him, motioning with this hand. "Come on, baby."

Frankie beamed, taking his hand. "That's better." He pulled up to a stand when a stricken look crossed his face.

"Frank?" Dean asked, concerned.

"You shouldn't...you can't...don't do that again!" Frankie stuttered.

"Don't do what?" Dean demanded.

"Help me up! Not in your condition!" He really looked upset, enough to make Dean grin at how 'sweet' Frankie was acting.

"Dude, not an invalid," Dean replied as he turned his back on Frankie to brush his teeth. At least the taste of mint didn't make him gag.

"Dean!" Frankie continued doggedly. "You can't DO things like that. You have to set limits and stick to them. I won't have you hurting yourself!"

Dean rolled his eyes as he spit out the toothpaste, feeling much more human without that funky taste in his mouth. He motioned to his body with one hand as he shoved his toothbrush back in its holder, where it would be weeks and months from now. "I'm not broken." He pointed out Frankie's battered reflection in the mirror. "You, however..."

Frankie glared at him in the mirror. "Dean, I'm serious."

"So am I," Dean replied slowly, glaring back.

A loud groan came from the man standing behind him and Frankie draped himself over Dean's shoulders. "I just want to take care of you," he murmured in Dean's ear. "I worry about you."

Dean reached back to run his hand through Frankie's thick hair. "No need to worry anymore, I'm home."

Frankie's arms tightened around him, twisting him from side to side as he cackled gleefully. "I know! Hey!" He froze, staring at Dean in the mirror. "I just realized something!"

"What?" Dean asked, chuckling at Frankie's enthusiasm.

Set just above deep purple and black crescents marring his face, Frankie's bright blue eyes sparkled at him in the mirror. "Now my mom can tell her friends I'm almost a hetero," he said with a huge grin.

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "And you call ME a nut?"

Frankie laughed, hugging him again. Well, if all this attention came with being pregnant, he might be able to get used to this. Being around Frankie really spoiled him.

* * *

Frank walked into his parents' house, assaulted by the delicious aromas of his mother's fabulous brunch. Mouth watering, he greeted his mother. Dad was out picking something up she forgot from the store, as usual. Sam was very polite and respectful, thank goodness. He suspected Sam had it in him, but Frank had not actually seen this side of Dean's little brother before. He was usually on the receiving end of hard looks and glares. It was a nice change to see the other side of Sam.

Dean was grinning at something his mother said when she lifted the cover off the eggs. Frankie could almost taste his mother's famous scrambled eggs, with cheese and peppers and sautéed onions. He nearly fell over as Dean rushed past, hand clamped over his mouth and eyes wide.

"Eggs," Sam whispered in his ear. "Get rid of the eggs."

"Uh," Frank uttered while his brain shifted into neutral. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment while the information sunk in. The eggs made Dean sick? "But he didn't even eat any," Frank protested slowly.

"It's the smell," Sam said under his breath. "I'm telling you, get rid of them. Now."

Frank turned to tell Sam that the eggs were his favorite, but Sam was looking to him to take care of it. Sam was treating him like Dean was his responsibility. Without another word, Frank put the cover back over the eggs and carried them into the kitchen. He didn't want to waste them, so he made room for the covered platter in the fridge.

"Frank, honey, what are you doing?" his mom asked, following him around.

"The eggs are making Dean sick," Frank explained quickly as he moved aside some raw carrots before shoving the eggs inside.

"They never made him sick before!" she protested with her hands firmly on her hips.

"Uh, yeah, about that." Frank closed the fridge door on the eggs. He motioned to Sam that it was safe now. With a short nod, Sam went off in search of his brother. "We need to talk. About Dean."

"What is is?" One of her hands fluttered near her mouth. "Oh, dear. You got the test results back, didn't you? Is it bad?"

Frank grinned at his mother. "No, Mom, it's not bad. Not at all." He led her over to her table, made her sit. "Well, uh..." He scratched at his neck. "Okay, do you remember when I told you I was gay?"

Mom nodded, eyes pinned to him. Did she look pale? Nah, probably his imagination.

"Well, some people like both men and women. You know that, right?" he asked carefully. Mom nodded again, but the ends of her mouth twitched down. "Okay, then there are people who ARE both."

Now Mom frowned. "You lost me."

Figured. "It's pretty rare, but there are a few people who have, ah, both." He motioned at his lap. Her eyes were still blank. This was not working. "Dean's pregnant," he blurted.

"That's impossible," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"He has the right parts," Frank continued slowly. "You know, both kinds." He motioned to his lap again. "Of parts."

Mom's brows drew close together, a thick line forming between her eyes. "Is that possible?"

Frank nodded eagerly as he hopefully broke through the brick wall of his mother's mind. "It's really rare, but it's true. You're going to be a grandma again." He beamed at her. "Bet you never thought it would be from me!"

She kept staring at him. Well, maybe there was at least a crack in the wall.

"That's why he passed out in the ER. And why the smell of eggs makes him sick. He was vomiting for about thirty minutes this morning before we came, but I think that's because he was nervous about telling you and Dad," Frank explained.

"I'm here!" Lisa's voice pierced the house as the front door slammed closed.

"Kitchen!" Frank shouted, hoping for some reinforcements.

Lisa bounded into the kitchen. "Kids are in school and I'm ready for some of Mom's world-famous eggs," she announced. She looked them all over. "What is it?"

Frank beamed at her.

"Oh my god!" Lisa squealed. "Are you serious?"

Frank nodded. Lisa swooped through the kitchen to embrace him in a crushing hug. "Oh, Frank, I'm so happy for you. Where's Dean? I want to congratulate him too."

"Bathroom," Frank said into her shoulder.

"Wait," Mom grabbed Lisa's arm. "You believe this?"

Lisa grinned at Mom. "It's true, Mom. I was so worried when he passed out last night, and I was right!"

Frank chuckled as she rushed out of the kitchen. "Well, Mom?"

She frowned at him, eyes narrowing as she thought about it. "If Dean says so, then I'll believe it."

Frank's jaw dropped. "You'd believe Dean over your own son?" he demanded.

Mom stood up, giving him a strong look. "Yes."

No longer amused, Frank watched his mother gather the dishes for brunch while he waited for Dean to come out. He heard some squealing in the hall which had to be his sister hugging Dean. Frank hoped Dean took Lisa's excitement well.

Finally Dean appeared in the kitchen doorway, a little dazed. "Is it safe?"

"Eggs are in the fridge," Frank promised.

"Dean," Mom stood right in front of him, "do you have any idea what Frank has been in here telling me?"

Dean shifted uncertainly from foot to foot. "Yeah, I do." He cleared his throat. "So? Are you okay with this?" he asked in a soft voice.

Her eyes widened and her hands fluttered near her waist, like she didn't know what to do with them. "It's true?" Mom demanded. "Really? A baby?"

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. Mom stepped forward, face to face with Dean. Then she threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. Looking immensely relieved, Dean hugged her back. Mom pulled away with a triumphant look.

"Does this mean my son isn't completely homosexual?" she asked in an excited voice.

"Told you," Frank said to Dean.

Dean's anxiety melted into a broad smile. "I think it's safe to call him bi," he told Mom.

"But monogamous," Mom insisted. "Right? You two are still as good as married?"

"Yes, Mom," Frank groaned. "Are we eating in the dining room or the den?"

"I think this is a special occasion," Mom announced. "Dining room." She paused as she turned around. "Uh, Frank? Why don't you let me tell your father? I'll wait outside for him while the rest of you set up in the dining room. Lisa, use the good tablecloth." She spun on her heel to head outside.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked Dean. Dean shrugged, looking over at Frank.

"You heard her," Frank replied. "We move everything to the dining room. Chop, chop."

He caught Sam rolling his eyes and nudging Dean. Dean chuckled at his younger brother, shoving him in the arm. Well, Frank had figured out how to share Dean with John, he'd figure out some common ground with Sam too. But he had a feeling it might take a little longer.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 **- _Greetings gutter-neighbors! This chapter: Dean gets hormonal, Sam gets real, and Frankie gets some._

Exhausted and relieved, Dean dropped into the passenger seat of Frankie's Buick. He heard Sam make some comment about not being in the Impala under his breath, but Dean shot his little brother a strong look and Sam pretended not to know what Dean meant. Typical brat.

He might have dozed on the way back to the house or else they made it there in record time. Honestly, Dean didn't really care as long as there was a soft bed waiting for him. Unfortunately, Sam nudged him in the shoulder as they headed for the front door. Holy crap, what? More talking?

Dean rolled his eyes before excusing him and Sam to the lawn chairs out back, where there was no a/c and no bed. This had better be good. He dropped heavily into a chair, fixing a steady gaze on his brother.

"What?"

Sam shrugged as he sat, looking every inch perfectly innocent. "What do you mean, Dean?"

Dean motioned to the backyard. "You wanted to talk. Talk."

Sam got that worried look again. "Are you feeling okay?"

Dean growled under his breath. People really needed to stop asking him that. Especially Sam. "I'm fine. Now what the hell is it?"

Still looking worried, Sam's eyes widened and he pursed his lips. "O-kay. Well, I don't know, I just thought maybe you'd like to talk about Frank's family. Like how his sister already seemed to know? Everything?"

Oh. That was what was bugging Sam. Frankie could tell his sister, but Dean couldn't tell his little brother.

"Ah, hell, Sam!" He didn't mean to explode but – come on! Like it hadn't been a strange and tough enough morning already? And now Sam wanted to dump more crap on him?

"Is that what this is about? Seriously?" Next thing he knew, Dean was on his feet standing over his brother and pretty much shouting right in his face. "How the hell should I know? I've only been home two days, TWO, in the last eight months! I get to talk to Frankie for an hour or two on Sunday nights, until you call wanting to know where the hell I am. Honestly, I'm glad he's got somebody to talk to, who doesn't judge every damn thing he does!"

Furious, Dean stalked back inside the house, making sure to slam the door on his way. He headed straight for the bedroom, because now on top of feeling dog-tired he had a bitch of a headache. Thank you, Sam. He slammed the bedroom door for good measure before throwing himself on the bed. First person who tried to disturb him, Dean planned to wake up swinging.

* * *

Sam stared in utter disbelief at the door Dean just slammed on him. What the hell brought that on? Then Frank rushed outside.

"What was that?" Frank demanded. "What happened?"

Sam shrugged, still sitting in the same place. "I have no idea. I thought Dean might like to talk about how your family took the news, especially your sister." He gave Frank a searching look. "And he just exploded."

"Oh." Frank glanced nervously at the door. "Maybe I should go check on him."

Oh, that was tempting, but...

"I wouldn't advise it," Sam told him honestly. "Last time I saw Dean this mad, he was in a hit-first-look-later kind of mood."

"Oh." Frank rubbed his hands down his slacks, eyes darting between the chair Dean had been sitting in briefly and the house.

"Have a seat," Sam suggested. "Let's give him some time to cool off."

Frank sat slowly, eying Sam. "How long do you think?"

Sam checked his watch. "How does next Thursday strike you?"

A nervous chuckle came from Frank. "That's, uh, a good one." He leaned back in the chair. "I wasn't sure you had a sense of humor."

"Dude, I grew up with that." Sam waved a disdainful hand in the direction Dean stormed off in. "I had to."

The smile fell from Frank's face. "That?" he asked in a hard voice.

"Yeah. That," Sam repeated, a little confused by Frank's sudden coolness. "Dean's attitude. When we were kids, there were days he would just go off over nothing. Dad would have been gone for two days and suddenly, Dean was all pissed off about it. He would slam pots and pans around when he was making dinner, bitching about how lousy mac and cheese from a box tasted. But the next day, he'd be all smiles. No problem. Dad was the greatest." Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair. Then he froze, his fingers still tangled in the long strands at the base of his neck. "Holy crap, he was PMS-ing, wasn't he?"

That earned him another nervous chuckle from Frank. "You know, maybe this is just pregnancy hormones. My sister gets real bitchy when she's pregnant." He cleared his throat. "Please don't tell Dean I just compared him with my sister, for any reason."

Sam couldn't help but smile at that. "Yeah, I don't think that would go over too well."

"Uh, you want a beer?" Frank asked.

Sam checked his watch. It was only ten-thirty in the morning. "It's after six someplace, right?"

A short laugh escaped from Frank. "Guess so. Back in a minute."

Sam waited outside. It was so quiet here, enough to allow you to really think. Occasionally there was the noise of a car passing, but Frank lived away from the big roads in a quiet neighborhood. Yeah, maybe it was kind of a run-down area, but it was starting to grow on Sam. And Dean certainly seemed to like it here.

Frank reappeared with two beers. He handed one over as he sat down. Just looking at him was almost enough to make Sam wince, his face just battered and beaten to hell.

Sam cleared his throat after taking a swig of beer. "So, you and your sister. You're pretty close, huh?"

Frank grinned. "Oh, yeah. She's great."

"I noticed she was more excited than surprised by your big news," Sam replied as he lifted his beer to his mouth.

The grin faded a little from Frank's face. "Yeah, well, she's persistent. She caught me reading up on human hermaphrodites right after I first met Dean. Let's see..." He closed his eyes and his lips moved as he gathered his thoughts. "That's been almost four years?" His eyes opened to focus on Sam. "So she's had some time to get used to the idea."

"Four years?" Sam demanded. "Dean said three. Exclusive for over two."

Frank pointed to the silver band on his left ring finger. "Exclusive for three years in two months. Dean counts by anniversaries." He shrugged. "The first year he wasn't so sure about it. Us." Frank stared off at the sky. "Wasn't easy knowing he was out there picking up sluts in bars." He shook himself, like he was shedding bad memories. "But we talked on the phone, and he kept coming back." Then Frank let out a chuckle which made Sam feel a little uneasy. "Had some really good phone conversations."

"On Sundays?" Sam asked, Dean's rant still fresh on his mind.

"You noticed!" Frank said happily. "Man, I'm shocked you didn't ask him about it. I kept hoping you'd catch on and convince him to tell you about us." He picked at the label on his beer. "But you probably did and Dean was being stubborn about it."

Sam chewed his lower lip, trying to decide between owning up or letting Frank think it was all Dean's fault.

"I noticed something was going on," he admitted, "but I didn't ask him about it."

The silence which engulfed them after his admission was stifling. Sam couldn't think of any way to come back from that one, not without looking like an even bigger asshole than he already did.

"Your parents seem really nice," Sam offered as the level in his beer neared the bottom.

"Thanks." Frank's voice was kind of soft and his expression distant, thoughtful. "They were pretty excited about meeting you, after all Dean has told us."

Sam met Frank's gaze. "I'm sorry I can't say the same." He chewed on his lower lip for a moment before adding, "But I figure that's as much my fault as anyone's." Sam was surprised at the level of truth in both of those statements.

Frank nodded as he averted his eyes to the house. "I think I'll go check on him now."

Frank had his hand on the doorknob when Sam felt the urge to set one thing right, while he still could.

"Frank?" He waited until the other man turned to look at him. "Sorry about jumping down your throat. In the hospital."

"Don't ever apologize to me for standing up for Dean," Frank replied. Then a small smile flickered over his face. "I do think you're dealing pretty well, considering. If it means anything to you."

Sam didn't have a response for that, so he just watched Frank go inside. To see Dean.

It took every ounce of restraint he still possessed not to barge in there to keep Frank out, to allow Dean time to calm down by himself, to still treat his brother the same way he always had. Sam knew when he went away to school that things, his life, would change. He wanted the changes for himself. What he did not expect was for his family to change, too. Sam honestly thought he would be able to come back at any time and find exactly what he had left behind, unchanged. Now he could see how naive he was to think that way.

Over the past months on the road, Sam had been slowly reconnecting with his brother. Dean had not always reacted the way he expected, having become harder and more independent on the road alone. It had been more difficult to bully or cajole his big brother than he remembered. When Sam wanted to go look for Dad, he had honestly expected to convince Dean to abandon the hunt and go with him. He had thought the threat of leaving, again, would be enough to force Dean to do what he wanted. When it hadn't, he had accused Dean of being nothing but Dad's little obedient soldier. And what had Dean done? Well, left him in the middle of the road in the middle of the night, but Sam had asked for it. After that, after they both had some time to calm down, Dean had called and said he was proud of Sam.

Why couldn't Sam be a little less like Dad and more like Dean? Why couldn't he say he was happy for his brother for finding someone special? He hadn't even told Dean congratulations over the baby. Yeah, he sucked at being the kind of brother Dean was.

Sam headed back inside to throw his beer bottle away. He considered drinking another, maybe whatever was left, but then he had a better idea. Outside the front door, Sam realized he did not have the keys to Dean's car. Frank's Buick sat in the garage next to the Impala. It was unlocked. With a grin, Sam quickly hot-wired it. Dean could kick his ass for it later, but it wouldn't be nearly as bad as if he had done it to the Impala. Sam headed for a store he had spotted on the way back from Frank's parents' house.

* * *

Why had Dean come to this tiny town in the first place? There was really slim pickings for hustling in the local bars. Sam managed to scrape together about seventy bucks playing darts. Plus the hundred and fifty he already had from Dean's last poker game, he might have enough for what he had planned.

Sam walked into the store he wanted and found a salesclerk. He explained his mission and the salesclerk, a very perky young lady with unrealistic bright red hair, was eager to help. Not bad, Sam had to admit; maybe Dean had a point about the women in this town.

An hour later, Sam had to negotiate a large box into the backseat of Frank's car. The trunk would have been better, but he didn't have the keys or the lockpick kit. The box barely fit. Sam wouldn't be able to see anything but brown box in the rearview mirror, but it fit. A small plastic bag sat next to him on the seat, which Sam patted fondly before starting the car.

"Okay, if this doesn't do it, I'm going to have to find Dad quick before Dean kicks me out." Sam laughed to himself as he headed back to the house.

He wondered if Frank would say anything about his 'borrowing' of the car. Sam was pretty sure he and Dean could fix it. Well, he knew Dean could, at any rate.

Sam parked the car in the driveway. The box would be impossible to get out of the car in the garage. He debated with himself for a moment on whether to go get Dean first or just bring the box in. Considering the mood Dean was in last, and the fact he 'borrowed' Frank's car, Sam decided to bring it in with him. At worst, he could hide behind it.

After removing the large box from the car, Sam snagged the bag from the front seat. His purchase wasn't too heavy, but it was large and awkward, requiring Sam to struggle with it to the door and into the den. He chose to lean it against the den wall, where it should be visible from the master bedroom door. He could hear low voices coming from the bedroom, so Dean must be up.

Sam turned on the television. Loud. It was some afternoon talk show but it didn't matter, Sam wasn't watching it.

"Damn it!" Dean's voice roared from the bedroom. Sam grinned, turning to face the stupid show. Any second now...

The bedroom door slammed open, probably cracking plaster. "Sam! What the hell do you think..."

He turned to face his brother, a wide grin on his face. Dean's wide eyes and slack jaw told Sam his brother saw his surprise. Sam shut off the television.

Frank appeared behind Dean, his confusion evident. "What is it?" Frank asked. He stood on tiptoe, leaning over Dean's shoulder. "Dean? Is that what it looks like?"

"Sam?" Dean asked weakly.

"I'll put it together," Sam announced, "but there's no way it's going in my room. Oh, and this goes with it." He tossed the plastic bag at Dean, who caught it effortlessly. "Sheets."

Slowly Dean pulled out the sheets. They were the corniest ones Sam could find, Superman. It made Dean roll his eyes, so Sam knew his big brother was pleased. "Were they out of pink?" he demanded.

Sam's grin broadened. "Yep."

"No Batman?" Dean asked, sitting next to Sam on the couch.

"Maybe for the baby shower," Sam replied.

"Dean, check it out!" Frank said as one large hand tapped on the box containing an unassembled baby crib. "It's the deluxe model."

"Don't say it," Dean muttered under his breath pleadingly.

However it was time for Sam to say this, what was on his mind. "Nothing less than the best for my brother."

To his immense shock, Dean's eyes watered up. Though there were many things Sam now felt ready for, watching his big brother cry was not one of them.

"So do we start on it now? Or wait a few months?" Sam asked quickly. Dean turned away, swiped a hand over his eyes.

"Well, I don't think we need to be in a rush," Frank said as he turned around. "Dean, what do... Babe?"

Dean shook his head as he turned back. "Yeah, we can start now." His voice sounded a little rough. "If Sam wants."

"Frank, care to do the honors?" Sam asked, making a grand gesture towards the box and ignoring Dean getting too emotional. As Frank popped open one side of the box, Sam felt Dean's hand wrap over his shoulder and squeeze tight. Finally, he did the right thing. Sam only hoped he could keep it up.

* * *

Sam's cell went off late at night. He rolled over, hand slapping in the dark until it landed on the cold, thin rectangle. He squinted at the small display, all the breath in his body expelling at the caller ID. Dad. With trembling and anxious fingers, Sam jabbed at the button to answer the call.

"Hello?" he asked, hoping and praying it really was Dad.

"Sam," Dad's voice barreled into his waiting ear, "how's your brother?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked cautiously.

"I mean he left me a message this morning and I want to know what the hell is going on," Dad snapped. "So how is he?"

Dean left Dad a message. He told Dad. Relieved, Sam nearly laughed out loud. "He's good, Dad. Just morning sickness so far, but he has an appointment with a doctor in a couple of days to really get checked out."

"They're sure?" Dad demanded. "Because this really isn't a good time."

Sam rolled his eyes in the dark room. "Yes, Dad, they're sure. I saw the ultrasound. It's really amazing."

He had not thought until that moment just how in awe of their situation he was, how amazing it really was. Dean. Pregnant. His big brother was going to make a seriously kick-ass parent. Sam was already feeling sorry for anyone who so much as looked wrong at Dean's kid. No, not sorry exactly.

A long sigh came through the phone. "So now you know," Dad said. "I hope you're not too mad at your brother, Sam."

Sam turned that over in his mind for a moment before forming a careful reply. "Actually, Dad, you were the one who should have told me. You're our father, shouldn't it have been your responsibility?"

A half-sigh, half-groan sounded. "Probably. Dean was just so embarrassed, I didn't want to do it for him. I really thought if he told you and it didn't change things between you two, it would go a long way to establishing some self-confidence. Guess that's something else I screwed up in your childhood, huh?"

The bitterness of Dad's last statement was not lost on Sam. And to be honest, Sam never had to make a decision like that for someone else, so who was he to judge?

"Dad, I don't want to get into it. Honest. And besides..." He took a deep breath before he continued. "I didn't hate my childhood that much. I just hated the fact you weren't in it as much as you could have been."

Dad was quiet for a while. "I'm planning to come by in a couple of weeks. I'm in the middle of something that I don't want following me back." He cleared his throat. "You can tell Dean if you want, or let it be a surprise. Up to you."

"Call me when you're on your way," Sam told his father, "and I'll make sure there's a place for you to stay."

"Fair trade," Dad said before hanging up, and Sam was struck by the throw-back to his childhood. It was Sam who always insisted on a fair trade when he didn't want to do something and Dean who found a way to make it happen, never Dad. Wasn't it?

* * *

Dean stared up at the dark ceiling. He could have sworn he just heard something.

"Mmm...Dean?" Frankie mumbled softly, squirming closer. "M'kay?"

The warm breath on his cheek washed his concerns away. "Yeah, I just thought I heard something." He rolled closer to the warm body next to him. "Guess it was my imagination."

An arm wound over his chest, large hand hot on his skin. "Salt," Frankie mumbled, "nothin's gettin' in."

Dean turned over so they were face to face. He pressed his body against Frankie, skin to skin all the way down their torsos. In the dark Dean couldn't see how much that bastard beat Frankie and he was once again the perfect image Dean held in his mind. Those big hands ran down his back leaving tingling flesh in their wake.

His mouth was captured in a lingering kiss, tongues slowly caressing as Frankie's hands held him close. Frankie pressed inside slowly, his movements and touches so gentle. Dean rolled them so he was on his back, now able to wrap his legs around Frankie's waist. Frankie's body pressed down on him, still kissing him with slow passion. He was being completely dominated, and he liked it. He was Frankie's, one hundred percent.

They moved slow and sure, the world outside nothing but a dim memory. Dean had one hand on Frankie's hip and the other buried in his hair when the big guy came with a shudder. Frankie's hand skimmed down below his waist, but Dean caught it in his.

"No, baby," he whispered as he lifted Frankie's hand to his chest. "I'm good. Go back to sleep."

Frankie shifted down, his body pressed against Dean's side. His nose nuzzled behind Dean's ear briefly before his head pressed into the pillow. Frankie let out a deep breath, though Dean couldn't tell if it was relief or contentment, and he suspected it was both. Sleep didn't come for Dean until after Frankie's breathing settled into a shallow, even rhythm. He held Frankie's hand tight against his chest as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Finally he was lost in dreams of yards with small children, swingsets and playgrounds.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21** – _The alerts are down, but I have a feeling my fellow gutter-neighbors will find this. I'll start answering reviews when the alerts are working again._

Six Weeks Later...

Dean leaned against the car and glanced around the not-so-busy diner parking lot. At two in the afternoon, the lunch rush ought to be done and the dinner crowd wasn't off work yet. It seemed pretty safe. One hand snaked under his overshirt to pull out a thick book that had been hell to hide the past few days, but Dean was determined and resourceful.

Baby Names.

He snorted as he flipped to the pages he had marked, going over first and middle name combinations in his head. Frankie kept hinting that they should have some 'gender neutral' names, like he was hoping for a hermaphrodite baby. Sick bastard. Dean had higher hopes, he wanted his own Sam. Actually, Sam was a good name, one of the ones he had marked. Samuel and Samantha. Privately he was hoping for a girl to name Samantha, just to annoy his brother, but he wouldn't mind a smart-as-hell boy either.

He glanced up to check on Frankie, one hand automatically rubbing at the protrusion from his stomach. It looked like Frankie and Serene were in a booth, talking. Nobody was wearing a bitch-face. Yet. His eyes dropped back to his book. Some names actually had meaning. So what? Dean liked the strong, short names like John, Sam, Dean, Frank. Even Mary fit in that category, though Dean was having a hard time wrapping his head around naming anyone Mary. It felt too much like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

It might have been the fact these frigging pregnancy hormones were working him over, or that he was distracted by the baby names, or even that he was feeling a little too relaxed in this small town that he lowered his guard. Whatever the reason, Dean would make damn sure it didn't happen again, because it was the beginning of a whole chain of events that never should have happened in the first damn place.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement. Assuming it was Frankie, Dean moved swiftly to hide his book, then he heard a swishing noise through the air. Dean froze, hand behind him and under his shirt, unsure what the noise meant. His eyes cut to the side. It was one of the moron brothers from the bar, the ones who had drugged Frankie. He holding a wood baseball bat.

When he woke up this morning, he had had a feeling he needed to stay in bed. Frankie even had the day off, they could have had a great time staying in bed all day.

The bat swung at him again, Gary grinning broadly, the pervert. "Time to even the score," he taunted.

Great. At least it was just the one and not both brothers. Even as tired as he had been feeling lately, Dean figured he could take out this moron without breaking a sweat. He haphazardly finished stuffing his name book under his shirt so he would have both hands free. Gary came at him again with the bat, but Dean jumped nimbly out of the way. As he searched for a way to end this quickly, he was grabbed from behind. Arms pinned back by the elbows, someone was behind him holding him back.

Panic set in as he saw Gary aiming the bat at his abdomen.

"I didn't like the way you tried to strangle my brother," a man's voice hissed in his ear. Shit, it was the other moron!

Dean fought the arms holding him violently, anything to kept that bat away from his stomach. He bent and twisted, knowing a moving target would be harder to hit. The bat finally came swinging his way and Dean threw all of his weight to one side, forcing his second attacker to the ground with him as the impact from the bat shot through his left shoulder.

"God damn!" Gary shouted. "The fucking bat broke!"

"Forget the bat!" The brother shouted over his shoulder. "Just get it over with!"

He tried, but he couldn't curl up in time. The size fifteen sneaker knocked the wind out of him, made tears come to his eyes as it connected with his stomach. When he saw the foot drawn back for another blow, Dean found the strength to pull his legs up protectively. That foot pounded his shins while the brother holding him down screamed for Gary to go for the face or throat. Really not helping. Dean slammed his head backward and was rewarded with the sound of bone breaking and a yelp of pain.

The next few minutes were a blur, but Dean did remember seeing Frankie flying into Gary and another image of Frankie wielding the broken bat like some strange clean cut caveman. There was some screaming and then some sirens. Finally Frankie's voice was in his ear, whispering all kinds of promises as he was loaded into the back of an ambulance. He thought maybe Frankie said something along the lines of 'pregnant' and 'wife' but he might have been imagining it. He hoped so. Frankie was finally looking human again, Dean would hate to have to kick his ass.

* * *

Frankie paced the ER room nervously, waiting for Sam to show up. This time, Sam was going to kill him. He was seriously regretting ever pestering Dean to meet his elusive brother. The hospital had already called Smith-Jones and Dean was right, that was a seriously wacked-out name. Why the hell was he worried about such trivial crap at a time like this?

The doctor arrived with her favorite tool, the ultrasound machine. They checked the baby's heartbeat too, it sounded like a train. She smiled broadly as she told Dean that he might feel like shit for a few days, but the baby was fine.

"But he kicked the baby," Dean protested. "How can it be fine?"

Smith-Jones maintained her smile. "You might be showing, but the baby isn't that big yet. This," she rested her hand on the gentle bulge in Dean's stomach, "is mostly protective fluid. One of the safest places you could fall right now is on your stomach. But I don't recommend it."

"Funny," Dean growled.

"I am a little worried the attack may have broken a rib, but I don't want to do any x-rays if we can avoid it," she said.

"Nothing you can do for broken ribs anyway," Dean replied. He shrugged and a flash of pain crossed his face.

"Dean?" Frank said, moving closer. "Something wrong with your shoulder?"

Dean glared at the offending shoulder. "You know, I remember Gary yelling about breaking a bat."

Without another word, Frank pulled Dean up to a sit. He unbuttoned the soft plaid shirt and peeled it carefully back from Dean's shoulder. It was an angry red and purple, so swollen Frank could barely peel the fabric down.

"Okay, now that we're going to x-ray," the doctor announced. "And I'm going to ask for an ice-pack."

The ER bed was angled so Dean could sit up comfortably, shirtless with an ice-pack attached to one shoulder, when Sam burst in. His eyes flicked over his brother, taking it all in.

"Who?" Sam demanded in the cold, hard voice which sounded so much like John Winchester.

"No, Sam," Dean replied in a weary voice. "We live here now. I'll just file a police report."

Sam's eyes narrowed and hardened. "Dean," he said in a threatening manner.

Dean raised a hand to wave off his brother, but his hand froze in midair. His eyes bulged. Frank spun around to see what Dean was staring at. John Winchester stood in the entry to the glass walled room.

"Dad?" Dean breathed softly.

"Your brother asked you a question, son," John said in his deep, rumbling voice. "I suggest you answer it."

"Moron brothers," Dean said slowly, his eyes never leaving his father.

"From Mart's?" Sam demanded. Dean nodded slowly.

"Sam?" John asked.

"Just a minute," Sam snapped, holding up a hand to silence his father. Frank watched the exchange silently, knowing his input was not needed. "How's the baby?"

Dean's attention shifted from his father to his brother. "Doc says the baby's fine. Sam, don't do this."

"Frank," Sam said, turning away from Dean, "take care of him. We'll see you at the house later."

Sam brushed past his father out the door. John smiled and winked at Dean before he followed the youngest Winchester out.

"Crap," Dean mumbled. "I hope they don't kill 'em."

Frank sat on Dean's bed, their hips pressed together. He ran his fingers through Dean's hair, refusing to add his comments. Because, deep down, he did understand what the Winchesters were capable of, and he hoped Dean's father and brother would be able to do what he couldn't.

* * *

John followed his youngest out to the parking lot. He could practically see the steam boiling out of the boy's ears.

"Over here," John called as he headed for his truck. Sam fell into step beside him. "I take it you know where these moron brothers are?"

Sam gave him a tight nod, lips pressed together with enough force to make them a bloodless white. John followed his son's directions to a small apartment complex. Sam didn't pause as he headed up the stairs and for the right door. He met John's gaze, clearly asking for permission to kick the door in. John gave it with a subtle hand gesture.

The door slammed open with the force of Sam's kick, bouncing violently against the interior wall. Sam did all the right things, following his training perfectly. All that time on the road with Dean must have shown him how valuable John's training had been.

These so-called 'moron brothers' weren't exactly in top shape when John and Sam found them. One had a severely bashed in nose with two black eyes, probably all resulting from the same blow. The other one's movements were short and jerky, as if he had already encountered a beating.

John pulled his pistol, motioned for the brothers to assume the position. Sam patted them down, though he kept looking to John for permission to open up a can of whoop-ass. After Sam gave him the nod that they weren't armed, John spun the one without the broken nose around.

"Shirt off," he ordered, more curious than anything. The guy moved slow as he took off his shirt, revealing wide bruises across his back and chest. "What happened to you?"

Moron brother number one, the one without the busted nose, shrugged. Probably too embarrassed to admit to it, especially if...if it was Frank. Frank might be a big guy, but Dean was right, he was worthless in a fight. If Frank took him down, well, that certainly wouldn't speak well of moron one.

"And you?" he asked moron brother number two. That brother just glared venomously.

"Okay. In that case Sam, we'll do it your way." John effectively removed Sam's leash.

Sam didn't need to be told twice. John moved out of the way as Sam laid into both brothers. Twenty seconds later, Sam slammed the brother's heads together and they slumped to the floor.

"Should I tie them up?" John asked.

"Go ahead. I'll look for a marker," Sam replied in a stiff voice.

"What do you need a marker for?" John demanded.

"To leave them a message," Sam snapped.

John sighed. "Son, up to now there's no evidence to connect us with being here, other than their word. I'm pretty cure Frank has a better rep in this town than the moron brothers here, so we can beat that. If you leave hard physical evidence..."

Sam sighed. "Fine. We'll just tie them up."

John had no idea 'just' tying them up meant the moron brothers wouldn't be wearing much more than the rope. He and Sam needed to have a looooooong talk.

* * *

Gary woke with a heavy pounding behind his eyes. When he couldn't move his arms at first, he thought it was because they had partied too hard last night. Then he remembered those big guys kicking in the apartment door. His eyes flew open. The front door was closed. Maybe he dreamed it.

"Gary?" Joe's voice came from his side. "What happened?"

He turned his head to look at his brother. Joe was tied to a chair and looked about like Gary felt. They were tied to straight-backed wooden chairs, which explained why he couldn't move his arms.

"I think we need to move," Gary said slowly. "As soon as we get out of these chairs."

He knew that look on his younger brother's face, and it was never a good thing. "We need to get even."

"Joe," Gary said desperately, "those guys are crazy. We should get the hell out while the getting is good."

"All we did," Joe said slowly, like Gary was the one who was dense, "was knock around the guy who tried to strangle you."

"Joe! We're tied to chairs in nothing but our underwear!" Gary shouted, seriously freaked out now. "I mean, the guy was good-lookin' but not worth all this. Please, let's just move to Riverside. We'll still be close enough to hit Mart's every weekend and far enough not to run into these assholes."

Joe got a thoughtful look on his face. "And it would give us some time."

"Time?" Gary demanded. "Time for what? Joe, stop and think about what they could have done to us!"

"Why do you think I want some time?" Joe demanded in a cold tone. "Now that we know how many of them there are, we can plan better."

Gary hopped his chair around so he was face-to-face with his younger brother. "Joe. Two of us went up against one of them, and you got your nose bashed in. Then one more showed up and beat the crap outta me. What the hell are we going to do against four of them?"

"They have a weak spot," Joe replied calmly. He would be much more convincing if he wasn't almost naked and tied to a chair. "All we have to do is find it."

"No," Gary snapped. "The second I'm out of this chair, I'm packing my shit. You do what you want."

Joe's eyes went wide and round. "But Gary..."

"No, Joe. You gotta know when to cut your losses. No."

It took a few hours of shouting and screaming, but finally one of their neighbors called the police instead of checking on them personally. Gary didn't blame them, Joe wasn't exactly hospitable around the neighbors. The cops wanted to know how and who, but Gary wasn't talking. He didn't want any more trouble with those guys. What had already happened was bad enough. Joe didn't talk either, but Gary did not find it reassuring. When he finally got rid of the cops, he started packing.

"Gary," Joe's plaintive voice came from behind him, "don't leave without me."

"Then pack," Gary snapped.

He heard some rustling as Joe set about opening drawers and packing a suitcase. Gary didn't care if everything left with them. He had a little money saved up, he could replace whatever they chose to leave behind. When his clothes were packed, Gary set his bags by the door. He headed for the kitchen, to see what he wanted to take. A firm hand on his arm gave him pause.

"Gary? I just want to look out for you, the way you always looked out for me," Joe said as Gary desperately tried not to look at his brother. "I remember all those nights Dad came to our room, to your bed."

A cold shiver ran through him.

"I know how you kept him away from me." Joe's voice was in his ear now, warm breath tickling his skin. His body pressed against Gary's from behind. "I just want to make you happy. Always."

"Then we need to leave," Gary replied in a strained voice.

"We're leaving," Joe said in his soft, sweet voice. "After we find a place, let me find somebody for you. Make you happy." His body was hot against Gary's back. "I'll do whatever you want to him, while you watch." Joe's voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Just the way you like it."

Gary nodded, he couldn't pass up an offer like that and Joe, damn him, knew it. Joe didn't go any further than just pressing against him. Gary couldn't stand more than that, never skin on skin, not while he was sober, and Joe knew that.

"And next time I tell you to leave it," Joe said in his ear, "you'll leave it?"

Gary shrugged. It was a promise he couldn't make, because it depended on how drunk he was. "I'll try," he managed to whisper.

Joe moved away, a chill lingering in the absence of his brother's warm body. "I'm done packing, Gary. Let's go."

Screw it, they could just start over. It wouldn't be the first time. Gary paused briefly to stroke his brother's cheek, enjoying the complete adoration in those eyes. "If you like, we could find somebody tonight, rent a room," he suggested as his fingers trailed down Joe's neck.

Joe gave him a brilliant smile, so beatific despite his swollen and busted nose. "Do we have enough to rent somebody pretty?"

Gary returned Joe's smile. "Yeah, we can do that." It would be difficult to pick somebody up looking like they did now, to just pay for a night would be much easier.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22** – _Welcome back to the gutter! Okay, not so much in the gutter this chapter, but some angst and shouting and a little ogling._

Dean growled a little under his breath about being pushed outside in a wheelchair, but his doctor had insisted. He also had an appointment with her for next week, a follow-up. It was a real good thing Frankie had insisted on adding Dean to his insurance a few years ago, otherwise there would be no way they could afford any of this.

Frankie pulled up in the Buick. Dean chuckled to himself over the memory of Frankie discovering Sam had hotwired his car. Apparently Frank didn't think Sam was the 'type' to know how to do something illegal like that. Dean had replaced the stripped wires in an afternoon, while Sam and Frankie argued over the best location for the crib. While Dean was pretty certain he could have stepped in and made a declaration 'the crib shall be here' which would have settled it, he let them have at it. It was the first time they had had to work something out between them, and they did a good job. The crib was set up in their room, of course, but away from any windows and against an interior wall where a salt ring could be easily poured around it.

The nurse insisted on helping him into the car, despite his objections. Then he caught the look Frankie was giving him and shut up. God, his legs were killing him. Once the doc got a good look at his shins she had been afraid of all kinds of damage, but they were just bruised and hurt like hell. Dean managed to buckle himself in one-handed, his left arm strapped tightly against his chest to immobilize his shoulder.

Frankie gave his thigh a squeeze before putting the sedan back in drive. "I'm going to take you to the house. After your dad and brother show up, I'm going to hit the video store and rent a shit-load of movies for you."

Dean groaned. "Frankie, you don't need to do that."

"Uh, yes, I think I do." Frankie shot him a hard look. "Bed-rest for a whole week, doctor's orders. Somehow I don't see you just sleeping for a week."

"She said it was a precaution, since I can't work anyway," Dean argued. "It isn't a big deal."

"Then you won't mind if I go rent movies for you," Frankie argued back in his calm, level voice.

"It sounds expensive," Dean snapped, unable to control his irritation.

Frankie reached over to rub his thigh again. "Did I tell you the assist's position is opening? Barry is being transferred to Oakville."

"No shit?" Dean tried forcing himself to calm down. "Who are you hoping will take the job?"

Frankie smiled without looking at him. "Means more money. I figured with a baby on the way and your family staying with us..."

"No!" Dean shouted, his voice loud inside the car. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Frankie's hand moved off his leg as he shrugged. "I was thinking that I'm supporting three people with a fourth one on the way."

Dean gritted his teeth, breathing rapidly through his nose. "You're not supporting three people. Dad and Sam can take care of themselves. So can I." The stricken look on Frankie's face was almost too much. "You're not taking a stressful job. Period. Hell, having to freaking deal with me everyday will probably be enough to give you a heart attack, you don't need job stress too."

"Dean, the assistant manager's job isn't that stressful," he argued. "And we could use the money. My manager came and asked me to apply for it. I'm a shoe-in."

Dean glared at him. "You had a heart attack when you were twenty-freaking-two. I'll be damned if I let you take on too much. You already have to deal with me and my whole frigging family. The only person missing is Bobby."

Frankie grinned at him, eyes flashing between him and the road. "I like Bobby. Are we inviting him for the holidays this year?"

"You're changing the subject," Dean accused.

"Better believe it," Frankie answered lightly.

"You already took the job, didn't you?" Dean asked with a sinking feeling.

Frankie didn't answer as he turned into the driveway. "Home, sweet home," he announced cheerfully. "Looks like John and Sam haven't made it back yet."

Dean groaned at the reminder. "I really hope they're not doing anything stupid." He glared at the man seated next to him. "That tendency seems to be running rampant around here."

He heard the sound of Frankie releasing his seat belt and sliding across the seat. Next he felt wet warm lips pressed against his neck. Dean shoved his right hand between his neck and Frankie. "Not going to work this time," he growled.

Frankie moved up to kiss along his jaw.

"Frankie," Dean warned. He'd like to slam his elbow into Frankie's gut, but it was strapped to his side. Then Frankie pressed closer, raining kisses on his jaw and cheek while Dean continued to protect his neck, because if Frankie could go there he would totally cave and he knew it. When Frankie leaned in a little more, there was too much weight on him and a jolt of pain seared his shoulder before it shot through the rest of his body causing him to gasp.

"Dean?" Frankie's weight was off of him. Oh, thank god.

A knocking on the window caught Dean's attention. Frankie was still looking at him with a panicked expression and Miss Shelly peered in Frankie's window.

"Boys?" she asked, knocking again. "Everything all right?"

"Dean?" Frankie asked again, his voice quavering.

"Let's just go inside," Dean said, wrapping his hand around his throbbing left shoulder.

Frankie had to wave Miss Shelly back to get out of the car. Then he raced around to open Dean's door. Dean got the seatbelt off before Frankie had the door open. There were still massive apologies in Frankie's eyes, but none about taking the new job.

He noticed Frankie stayed on his right the whole way inside the house, hands steering clear of Dean's hurt shoulder. Dean went for the easy chair in the den, the best place to confront the rest of his stubborn-ass family.

Miss Shelly brought him hot tea, not exactly his favorite but she was so damned nice Dean couldn't ever tell her no.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked as she handed over the steaming mug.

"Like crap," Dean admitted as he sipped at the tea.

"And what about the baby?" Miss Shelly said in such a perfectly casual voice, as if they talked about Dean being pregnant every day.

He eyed her shrewdly. "I take it you and Anna are pretty good friends?"

Miss Shelly smiled at him. "I used to babysit Anna when she was a little girl. So you could say that." She sat on the arm of the couch. "Now tell me so I can go activate the phone tree and let everyone know."

"What phone tree?" Dean demanded.

"Honey," Miss Shelly patted his good arm, "you live in a small town now. We have a phone tree for everything. What did the doctor say?"

He could feel Frankie standing behind him, but the big guy didn't say anything for a change.

"She said the baby's fine, but she wants me to stay in bed for about a week," he told her.

Miss Shelly clucked in sympathy. "Okay, dear. I'll leave you two alone now." She stood, looking at Frankie. "I'm sure your mother will be calling in about ten minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," Frankie replied.

"Now you make sure Dean rests. I'll be back by to check on you two in a couple of hours. Might even bring my famous cheeseburger casserole." She bent over to kiss Dean on the forehead before she left.

Frankie closed the door behind her, looking an awful lot like a beaten puppy with his tail between his legs.

"When did you tell him you'd take the job?" Dean demanded.

Frankie sighed. "Yesterday. It...it just seemed like the best solution."

"And you're not worried about the stress?" Dean locked eyes with Frankie, determined he get a freaking straight answer. Frankie didn't answer right away.

"Damn it, Frank! I swear, if you try to die on me, I'll kill you," Dean threatened.

Frankie actually smiled over that. "Do you realize that you just said-"

"Shut up!" Dean shouted. "You know what I meant!" His tea sloshed out of the mug, burning his hand. "Shit!" The mug clattered to the floor, spilling everywhere.

"God-damn-it." Dean reached for the handle to release the footrest so he could clean up his mess.

"I got it," Frankie promised as he rushed into the kitchen. The big guy returned with a kitchen towel. He cleaned up the spilled tea, avoiding eye contact the whole time while Dean glared at his back.

Finally Frankie sat on the edge of the couch, tea stained towel in one hand and the empty chipped mug in the other. "I didn't think it would upset you," he said slowly as his eyes lifted to meet Dean's angry gaze. "It seemed like perfect timing, almost like divine intervention. Right when we need more money, I get a promotion?"

Frankie shrugged his massive, beautiful shoulders... Dean shook his head to clear it. No getting distracted, not now, he told himself.

"Honest, Dean, I wasn't thinking about stress or heart attacks or me, at all." His amazing blue eyes locked with Dean's. "I just want to do what's best for us, for my family."

Man, he really could get lost in that blue, bluer than the sky on its clearest day. Focus, Dean, focus. "What's best for us is you not having another heart attack," Dean said stiffly.

"Can we make a deal? A fair trade?" Frankie asked and Dean could hear the tinge of desperation in his voice.

"Like?" He was trying hard not to yell right now, but God, he felt like he did the night Jess died; sitting in that motel room, wondering if the thing that killed her and Mom went after Frankie too. He felt completely out of control, and scared.

"I'll make an appointment with my doctor, get a full physical. You can come, ask him all the questions you want. And if you think I'm getting too stressed because of work or anything, I'll quit." His eyes pleaded with Dean to find some middle ground.

"Just like that?" Dean demanded. "You'd quit because I want you to?"

Frankie nodded eagerly.

"No arguing, or kissing my neck, or one more week, or 'Dean, you don't get it'?" he went on. Dean snapped his fingers. "Just like that?"

Frankie's brow furrowed and his head tilted to one side. "Yeah, just like that." He snapped his fingers at Dean. "You know I would." He leaned forward some. "You do know I would, right?"

Dean shrugged his good shoulder as he allowed his body to relax into the chair. His breathing became a little easier even though his ribs and shoulder still throbbed. His eyes closed, his whole body suddenly drained of all energy. The sounds of Frankie moving around, putting the mug away in the kitchen, talking softly on the phone, doing whatever in the bedroom, were comforting as Dean drifted in and out of sleep. He heard some doors open and close too, hushed voices, but nothing seemed important enough to open his eyes.

When a hand stroked his hair and Frankie's soft voice called, "Babe? Ready to eat?" Dean forced his heavy eyelids to open.

"Lunchtime?" he asked, noticing he had a dry mouth.

"More like supper," Frankie said. "Stay there, I can bring you a plate."

Dean shook his head as he reached for the handle to lower his footrest. "Nah, if I stay here any longer I won't be able to move. Help me up." He held out his good arm. Frankie wrapped a large, strong hand around his forearm and pulled him to a stand. Dean had to wait a moment until a wave of dizziness passed. Then he nodded to Frankie that it was okay to let him go.

Shit, his legs hurt worse now than they did in the hospital. The strongest pain meds he was allowed was freaking aspirin or ibuprofen, which did exactly dick. He'd kill for anything with just a little more kick, like vicodin, but that's kill as in kill a fugly, not kill or hurt his baby. So he was going to have to live with it.

"Dad and Sam still not back?" he asked as he sunk into his roller chair at the table.

Frankie shook his head as he set out a plate of Miss Shelly's cheeseburger casserole. "Come and gone. You were sleeping so they went on some errand of Sam's."

"Oh, that doesn't sound good," Dean said. He tried to go for his cell, but it was in the wrong pocket. "Shit. Frank, get my phone out for me." Dean leaned back while Frankie worked his cell out of his pocket, taking freaking forever. "What the hell, Frankie? Just grab the damn thing."

Frankie gave him a guilty look. "I don't want to hurt you."

Crap. He forgot about the thing in the car. "Don't worry about it. Leaning back like this hurts like a bitch, so the quicker the better."

Frankie's cheeks flushed. He managed to wrestle the phone out of Dean's pocket. "You know I hate it when you're hurt." His massive frame arched over Dean, one hand resting on the table while the other held the cell.

Dean found himself smiling up at him. "I know, baby."

Frankie let out a grunt as he slapped the cell into Dean's open palm. He planted a kiss to Dean's temple. "I love it when you call me that."

Dean grinned as he pressed speed-dial number two on his phone. "At least now I know how to get my way."

Frankie rolled his eyes as he dug into his casserole. "Yeah, like you need to manipulate me."

Dean gave Frankie a quizzical look as he listened to Sam's phone ring. What the hell did Frankie mean by that?

* * *

"And why are we here?" Dad asked. Again.

"I told you. Frank said Dean was attacked in the diner parking lot, so somebody here must have seen something," Sam explained. Again.

"But Dean already told us who it was," Dad said. "Case closed."

Sam resisted rolling his eyes, knowing how much it irritated his father. And since when had Dad developed blind faith in Dean? Wasn't this the same man who never gave them all the details for a hunt, because they might try to think for themselves?

"I just want to be sure, Dad. They might have had help." He shot his father a hard look. "You really believe just two guys, humans, were able to take down Dean?"

Dad shrugged. "I'm sure he's not at top form these days, Sam."

Sam scoffed at the suggestion. Dean was just barely showing, why would that slow him down so much just two guys could jump him?

The pretty lady with the fabulous pie waved at him through the window. Sam let them inside the diner. Serene motioned for him and Dad to sit at an empty booth. Sam slid into the booth, avoiding the large crack in the blue vinyl near the window. Dad nodded in approval as he sat opposite Sam.

"Wonder if we can score some pie," Dad said in a low voice.

"Her peach pie is awesome," Sam admitted.

Dad's eyebrows shot up. "You've had some? How did you manage that? She nearly threw me out last time I asked for some."

"Why?" Sam couldn't imagine what would set her off that way.

"Because I'm Dean's father, I suppose," Dad said with a shrug. He leaned over the table to whisper, "Don't tell me she's the reason we're here. Total bitch, Sammy."

Why did his family always assume he was after a girl? Sam chose to ignore his father and he really couldn't help it if he watched Serene walk by. It didn't matter how much of a bitch they said she was, she was still hot.

"I have something for you," she hissed as she walked by. "Just give me a minute."

Dad gave him a searching look. Sam shrugged. "She's trying to get along with Frank again."

"Oh." Dad picked up one of the laminated menus. "Maybe we should get something to eat while we're here."

Serene glanced around before sliding into the booth next to Sam. Sam didn't move over too far, preferring that she have to sit close to him. Okay, so maybe he had been single for too long. She shoved something from under her apron into his lap. Sam leaned back to get a better look at it.

"A book of baby names?" Sam glanced at Serene nervously. "What is this?"

"I found it in the parking lot after the ambulance left," she said in a low voice. "There's a strange rumor around town about Dean. I was afraid if it got out that a book of baby names was found in the same parking lot where he was attacked..." Serene made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

"That people would know Dean is pregnant?" Sam asked as Dad shot him a glare.

"Oh, you know how small towns are and the crazy..." Serene broke off, staring at Sam and he could see she had dark brown eyes with light brown accents, like a tiger's eye stone. "What did you say?"

Dad took the book from Sam's hands. "He said we'll be sure to return it."

Sam noticed as Dad took the book that some pages appeared to be dog-eared. "Wait a minute," he protested, "I think he marked some names."

Dad gave him a really stern look. "And when Dean wants you to see them, he'll show you." He patted the book on the bench seat next to him. "Until then, I'll keep it nice and safe."

"Come on, Dad," Sam pleaded, "aren't you a little curious?"

"How's the pot roast today?" Dad asked, focusing on Serene.

"Uh, g-good," she stuttered, her gaze jumping between Sam and Dad. "So it's true? Frank was working up to telling me something this morning, but then we noticed..." Serene swallowed hard. "I called the police. I really thought he was going to kill those guys."

"Frank?" Dad asked, leaning forward on the table with both arms. "You thought Frank was going to kill them? Don't you mean you were worried Frank was going to get killed?"

"I swear, I've never seen Frank like that before. I guess if the rumor is true, that would go a long way to explaining it," she continued, her rich eyes focusing on Sam. He was definitely starting to really like this town. "He did play weekend softball a few years ago, so I guess even a broken bat must have seemed like a perfect weapon."

"Broken?" Sam asked in unison with Dad.

He met Dad's worried gaze. How long had they been gone? Sam's phone went off as Dad started to slide out of the booth.

"Hang on," Sam said as he waved Dad back, "it's Dean."

"Dean? You okay?" Sam asked, slightly panicked.

"Dude, didn't we already do this? I was calling to see what you and Dad were doing," Dean said. "Dad didn't let you go off and do anything stupid, did he?"

Sam squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. "Is this your definition of stupid, or mine?"

"Sa-a-am," Dean warned.

Yeah, yeah. Whatever. "We're picking up your book at the diner," Sam said instead of what he was thinking.

"Bring pie," Dean replied instantly. "Wait, my book? Oh, shit. Uh, I didn't have a book, don't know what you're talking about – see ya, Sam."

Sam had to chuckle as he put his phone away. "Doesn't want to admit to the book," he informed his dad.

Dad shrugged, but Sam caught the flicker of amusement on his face.

"Serene, is there any way I can get some pie for Dean?" he asked with a smile.

The light caught her eyes just right, making them shimmer. Similar brown highlights glistened in her rich brown hair. Her mouth was moving, but Sam couldn't hear what she said.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, hoping she would take the time to repeat herself.

"I asked how it was possible for Dean to be pregnant," Serene said. Wow, she had a nice voice, too.

"He's weird," Sam heard himself saying. "I could tell you about it over dinner. Tonight?"

"Ow!"

The sharp pain in his shin was a reminder that Dad was still sitting across from him. He rubbed at his sore leg as he glared at Dad.

"How about if I bring out that potroast. Two orders? And pie to go?" Serene jumped up from the table.

"Nice going, Dad," Sam groused as she rushed out of sight.

"Just looking out for you, son," Dad replied in his stern 'I'm your father and I know better' voice. "I'm telling you, she's a complete bitch. You don't want any part of that."

Sam glanced at the swinging kitchen door. Maybe he did want part of that, at least a little. Oh who was he kidding? He wanted it a lot.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23** – _Greetings, gutter-neighbors! I noticed there are some new folks to the gutter: Welcome!!_

John followed Sam into Frank's house to find his oldest waiting for them in the easy chair. Well, at least Dean was pretending to rest.

"What happened?" Dean demanded before the front door was closed. "What did you do?"

"Don't look at me," John protested. "I just went along to make sure nobody got killed. But really, Sammy, tying them up in their skivvies?"

Dean's face lit up. "No way! Pictures? Sammy, you had to take pictures." He motioned with his hand.

Sam gave John a guilty glance before tossing his phone to Dean. Now when did Sam have time to take pictures? John was going to have to watch the kid a little closer, he might be sneakier than Dean. After messing with it a moment, Dean laughed gleefully. "Oh, dude, that's awesome. Hey, is that the brother? Tell me I broke his nose when I slammed my head into him."

"Oh, it's busted all right," John told him. "Double black eyes on top of it. Nice hit. What was he doing when you head-butted him?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He cleared his throat, shrugging the good shoulder.

"Hanging on to his arms from behind," Frank said as he walked in from the kitchen.

John sighed as he approached his son. He squatted next to Dean's chair. "How're you feeling, bud?" Dean's hair was soft under his hand.

"Okay," Dean said quietly. "Been worse."

"I know." John grinned at him. "At least they didn't drop a piano on you, huh?"

Dean grinned back. "Now **that** hurt."

"So where did they get you with the bat? Shoulder?" John eyed the contraption on Dean's left arm.

"Yeah." Dean swallowed hard. "Sorry, Dad. I let 'em sneak up on me. Guess I'll have to owe you some laps."

He pointed a finger in Dean's face. "And don't think I won't collect." He shrugged at the fear on Dean's face. "Someday."

Dean relaxed instantly, grinning at him again. "Yes, sir."

John placed the book of baby names in Dean's lap. "Think about Frederick. It was my dad's name."

"Freddy? Dunno, Dad, unless there's a Daphne around." Dean's eyes glinted with his teasing. "Now she was hot." John ran his hand over his son's head again as he stood. God, he loved that smart-ass kid.

"Dean?" Sam asked from over his shoulder. "Can I borrow that book? Ten minutes?"

Dean tossed it backwards over his head. It bounced out of Frank's hand on to the vinyl floor. Dean closed his eyes and shook his head as Frank scrambled around on the floor behind him to grab the book.

"Uh, secret hiding place or the super-secret hidey spot?" Frank asked as he held the book up triumphantly.

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said in a superior tone. "Under the mattress of your bed or behind the towels in the bathroom?"

Dean craned his head back to see Frank. "Hidey spot," he called out. Frank grinned as he disappeared into the bedroom.

Dean looked at Sam. "New place," he gloated. "You'll have to sneak around some more."

John gave Sam his best 'behave' look, hoping for once that Sam would understand and obey. "Uh, well, I guess when you're, you know, ready to show me, us..." Sam motioned between him and John. "Then we'll be happy to look at your, uh, choices."

"Dad, I warned you about drugging him." Dean glared at him, like it was John's fault.

"What?" Did Sam just squeak? "Drugged?"

John gave Dean a reassuring smile as he grabbed Sam by the upper arm. "Let's grab a few cold ones and sit out back, son. Dean probably needs to get to bed."

"You heard the man, Frankie," Dean called out. John shoved Sam aside as Frank came out of the bedroom to help Dean out of the chair. His son was moving slow and careful, so his injuries probably hurt like a bitch. John hated seeing his kids hurt, especially Dean. Not that he didn't love Sam any less, but there was something so noble about Dean, the way he always threw himself in the line of danger, that his injuries always seemed worse. Sam's arm tensed under his hand as Frank and Dean made their way slowly to the bedroom.

John made for the fridge and started to grab two beers, thought better of it, and took all of the remaining six. Dean wasn't drinking nowadays anyway. Holding three in each hand, he jerked his chin at the back door. Sam held the door open for him.

The evening air was soft, warm for this time of year. John dropped into one of Frank's ancient lawn chairs, permanently located on the back patio. The woven straps were fraying at the edges and the metal rusting at the joints. Corrosion crept slowly up the legs in white crystals. At Frank's house this was the safest place to talk one on one.

How many evenings had he and Dean sat out here, just bullshitting or talking sports? Frank was good about letting them have their time, only interrupting to say it was dinnertime or good night if he had to work the next day. Frank hadn't just been good for Dean, he had been good for John and Dean, allowing them to repair the damage years of inattention had caused.

John stretched up to hold out three beers to Sam. With a confused look, Sam took them before sitting in the chair next to him. It was high time he started some fresh repairs.

"I'm surprised they only have two chairs out here," Sam commented as he popped the top off one bottle.

"House rules," John explained. "Drinking beer outside is for working out problems or male bonding. No interference from outside parties allowed."

"What?" Sam made a sour face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

John shrugged as he took a sip. "Well, when you have three or four people living under one roof, things can get tense. Steve was Frank's roommate long before he ever met Dean. Any time Steve starts feeling left out, he and Frank come out here for a couple of hours and Dean knows to leave them alone. And if Dean and I need to talk out here, they leave us alone."

"Come here often?" Sam asked and John did not miss the hurt, sarcastic tone.

"Yeah, actually, I do." John motioned with his beer to include the whole area. "Nice town, friendly people."

Sam snorted derisively. "Could've fooled me."

John sighed. Sam was being his typical pig-headed self. "Sam, I wasn't exactly happy when I found out about this...arrangement." He fiddled with his bottle before choosing to look his youngest in the eye. "But I hadn't seen him happy since before you left for college."

Sam's mouth flew open, but John held up a hand to stop him. "Not blaming you, Sammy. I know you'd never intentionally hurt your brother, but you and I are too much alike, I guess. Two bulls in a china shop, never even noticing what we broke." A sigh escaped. "Dean took it pretty hard, you leaving. I never realized just how much time he spent with you, goofing around and blowing off steam."

Sam's head spun toward the house and back. "What are you saying, Dad? What happened?" He sounded as concerned as he had at the diner when they discovered the bad guys broke a bat beating up Dean.

John shrugged. "At first it was fine, like you were away at camp for a couple of weeks, no big deal. I kept asking him how you were, because I assumed you were calling your big brother. I know he gave you money for the bus trip to school."

Sam nodded and whispered, "He did. But I never called, Dad."

"I know." John drained that beer and opened another before continuing. "Got that message loud and clear one night. Dean had been of out of sorts, having a hard time concentrating on the job. I finally figured out that the stress was getting to him, how much worse it was for him without you around, so I ordered him to take a couple of weeks off, blow off some steam." He shook his head with a chuckle, remembering. "He was gone in less than ten minutes. Got a call two weeks later to meet him in some college town, so I headed over there. Spotted the Impala on my drive in at a bar on the edge of town. It was maybe two in the afternoon."

Sam winced, shaking his head.

"Yeah. Dean was hammered. I don't think I'd ever seen him really drunk, before or since." In his mind's eye, John flashed back to that day. There had been nothing extraordinary about the bar or its patrons, nameless faceless people like in every other town in America. But Dean had been spoiling for a fight that day. When John walked in, his son was taunting some of the locals over a not-so-friendly game of pool. The others clearly recognized how drunk Dean was, but the slack they were giving him would not have lasted much longer. John had had to practically carry his child outside, with Dean shouting profanities at the locals.

"We've been banned for life from there, not that it matters. All I could get out of him was some girl drop-kicked his heart because he told her about the job, then he clammed up. Wouldn't ever say another word about it." John caught Sam's eye, wanting to impress this next part on his youngest. "Then he went off on me, for running you off. That was the first time I knew you weren't even calling Dean. It was also the first time he called me an overbearing dumbass."

Sam's wide-eyed stare was almost worth making that particular confession.

"I know," John told him, "sounds more like Bobby, doesn't it? I guess that's who he'd been talking to, but that's a whole different story."

But Sam wasn't listening anymore, he had a distant expression. "Dad? When Dean came to Stanford, to try to convince me to help look for you, he asked if I told Jess. About hunting." His eyes honed in on John. "You think it's because he told Frank?"

"No." John drained the rest of his beer while Sam waited for more elaboration on his part. "I suspect it's because he told that girl, the one who hurt him. And then he told Frank, who didn't. Knowing Dean, telling someone about hunting has become a test of whether or not you can trust them."

Sam had finished one beer, but the others sat untouched on the ground. Finally he nodded. "So he wasn't just asking if I told Jess, he wanted to know how much I trusted her. If she could be trusted."

It was far too late to ask this question, the answer really didn't matter, but John had a burning desire to know. "Could she?"

Sam looked off into the distance, his eyes wet and shining in the last rays of evening sunlight. "I don't know," he whispered. "I never tried. Never gave her the chance."

John didn't know if that was the chance to be trusted, to show her trust, or to live. He wasn't going to ask, either. Besides, with a demon this powerful after you, just knowing about the supernatural wasn't a guarantee of safety, not by a long shot, but it was a horrible uncertainty Sam had to live with, not him. John wasn't about to reopen that wound.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said softly. "I really am. You have no idea. But I'm not sorry for allowing Dean to come here."

Sam shook his head as he wiped unshed tears from his eyes. "Nah. It's okay." He sniffled, his hair moving as though it had a mind of its own in the evening breeze. "It's just...I get it now. Why Dean pushed me to tell her, even though there was no way I would. Not back then."

John waited a moment for Sam to compose himself. When Sam's breathing was closer to normal he offered a second beer, which his son declined with a short shake of his head.

"I was curious about one thing," John spoke carefully, not wanting to set off any of Sam's old automatic reactions.

Sam swiped at his eyes with the palms of his hands again before nodding.

"What made Dean finally tell you? Was it after I called with hunt for the pagan god, or because he realized he was pregnant?" John paused, scratching at his chin. "That question sounded a lot better in my head."

Sam's laugh was dry and humorless. "None of the above. Frank was abducted by a psycho ex-boyfriend. Can't you see the yellow still in his face from all the bruising?"

John took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before responding. "How bad was it?"

"Beat the shit out of him, Dad." Sam leaned forward, forearms on his knees. "Face and chest. Took a knife to one arm and a shallow cut on the face." Sam's finger traced a path across one cheek. "I'm guessing the bastard was just warming up when we arrived."

"How bad was the arm?" John asked.

Sam's stared at him, like he couldn't quite believe any of it happened. "Pretty deep, there's already a scar, but it wasn't enough to require reconstructive surgery."

John let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He nodded, not quite ready to speak yet. Why would Frank being hurt be any more difficult to handle than Sam or Dean? Maybe because it had never been an issue before. Frank was home base, always safe. Between that and the attack on Dean, John was thinking the boys might need to relocate.

"Forget it," Sam told him as if the kid had been reading his mind. "I already suggested moving. It's a no go." Sam shrugged. "Besides, the thing with Dean was kind of our fault. We pissed those guys off when we were looking for Frank."

"You mean Dean pissed them off," John corrected.

"Yeah, well, he was kind of out of control," Sam admitted.

John had to smile. "If you think that's bad, you should see him when something grabs you."

Sam rolled his eyes. His gaze dropped to his watch. The illuminated dial glowed brightly in the dimming light. "I have to go."

John glared. "Hot date?"

Sam gave him a startled glance before shaking his head. "Somebody wants to know just how weird Dean is. That's all."

"Sam..." John shook his head. Kid never listened to him before, why would Sam start now? "Don't stay out all night, especially if you're taking Dean's car."

Sam grinned. "I know. It has a curfew. See ya in the morning?"

"Yeah," John agreed. "I'm planning to stay at least a week or two."

"Good." Sam cleared his throat as he stood. "Dean'll like that." His voice dropped, sounding much more like a kid than the man who stood before his father. "So would I."

John stood to face him. The time for words was long past. In all the excitement, there was something he had forgotten to do. John wrapped both arms around his son, grabbing on and holding on. He was relieved when Sam clutched him just as tight.

"Been a long time," John whispered.

Sam's arms squeezed tighter. "Too long," he choked out.

* * *

Dean couldn't sleep.

At first he thought it was because he wanted to know what the hell Dad and Sam were talking about. He'd had Frankie go check on them: no bloodshed, shouting or fists flying. Frankie flat out refused to eavesdrop; he claimed it violated the patio rules. Whatever. Dean had a pretty good idea they were talking about him, how much he'd slowed down. Great.

He tried lulling himself to sleep thinking about the baby names he'd been studying, but he was too tired to remember more than a few and none of the middle names. Counting sheep? Now that was just freaky. Why would sheep make anyone sleepy anyway? Maybe counting nice fluffy little clouds would be better, but that was just too girly.

Frankie's breathing was steady and heavy in the quiet room. Definitely awake.

"You sleeping?" he asked.

"Nah." Frankie rolled on his side to face Dean. "I thought you were tired?"

"I think I'm too tired to sleep," Dean admitted.

Frankie scooted closer, until Dean could feel the warmth from his body. "You sure it's not because you hurt too much? Maybe you need to go back out to the chair. You sure seemed to sleep well there."

Dean closed his eyes and shifted on the mattress. Fortunately his bad shoulder and hurt ribs were on the same side. "Yeah, lying flat hurts." He thought about it for a moment. "Got an idea. Switch sides with me."

Frankie didn't say anything, he just jumped up and raced around the bed. Dean slid over carefully, using his good arm and the one part of his body that didn't hurt, his ass. He noticed how carefully Frankie slid into bed, not jostling him or allowing the mattress to bounce or even dip down too hard. Dean rolled on to his good side.

"Get close," Dean ordered. He waited until he felt Frankie's side press against his back, then Dean rolled back. His busted shoulder was propped up in the air this way, no pressure on it at all.

"Hang on," Frankie told him. Dean rolled back on to his side. Next thing he knew, a well muscled arm pushed under his neck and wound over his chest. He relaxed back on Frankie. "Better?" Frankie asked.

"Much," Dean said. He heard a noise from the front of the house. "Was that the front door?"

Frankie nuzzled under his jaw. "Probably."

"Maybe you should go see," Dean suggested.

Frankie held him a little tighter. "Oh, they just grow up so fast, Dean."

"Shut up, you big idiot," Dean grumbled.

He felt better now and his eyelids were heavier.

"Dean?" Frankie's voice was soft and fragile in his ear.

"What?" he mumbled back, feeling the strong pull of sleep.

"I was scared."

Huh? Dean forced his eyes to open. He rolled further on to Frankie, until he could see Frankie's face in the light coming in from the crack under the door. "What? What scared you?"

"When I looked out the window, and saw those guys...and they were..." Frankie's voice was higher than normal and he was breathing heavy.

"Hey, hey," Dean interrupted as he pushed up with his good arm. "Don't forget, if you have another heart attack, I'm kicking your ass."

Frankie gave him a weird look. "I thought you were going to kill me."

"Nah," Dean said with a grin. "That's only if you die."

"Lay down, you nut," Frankie told him. Dean did, making sure to not only get back in that comfortable position but also to press all along Frankie's body, wanting to comfort him.

"You really kicked some ass," Dean said into the dark room.

Frankie's chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating out to Dean. "Now you're being nice."

"Nah," Dean said dismissively. "I don't know how."

Frankie's body curled around him, pressing him into a protected ball, but not too small or tight, just comfortable. Strange how Frankie always seemed to know just how far he could go. Then Dean felt a kiss near his ear. "Nut."

"Baby," Dean replied.

Frankie did not say anything else. If he did Dean didn't hear it, because the pull of sleep was too strong to fight now.

* * *

Sam parked the Impala outside the diner. Serene came outside, wide-eyed as she approached the car.

"You brought Dean's car?" she demanded.

Sam shrugged. "He kind of shares it with me. I can drive it, as long as I fill it up and don't get a scratch on her."

Serene shook her head at him. "I didn't think Dean would let anyone drive his car, not even Frank."

Sam grinned at her. "I'm not Frank."

"Are you sure?" Serene asked. "He's not going to track us down and shoot you while we're out to dinner?"

Sam laughed as he opened the passenger door. "Dean wouldn't shoot me just for driving his car."

The look she gave him expressed all her doubts and then some, but she still got in. Sam resisted the urge to pump one fist up in the air as he rushed back to the driver's side. He followed her directions to a small Italian restaurant on the other side of town. It was family owned and operated with a kind of cheesy atmosphere and really good spaghetti.

"You're serious?" Serene demanded. She sounded like a feminine version of Dean or Dad when she talked like that. "I never heard of that."

Sam shrugged. "Join the club. I found out at the hospitable, right after we rescued Frank."

"Oh, come on." Serene glared at him. "You don't mean to tell you didn't already know! How could you not know?"

Sam chuckled at her as he held up both hands in surrender. "I take the fifth, on the grounds any excuse I make will probably incriminate me."

She had a nice laugh and a great smile, which beamed at him now. "Okay, so now that you know, I'll bet you've started thinking – hey, was that because..."

"Oh, yeah," Sam agreed readily. "If' I'd had a clue, I'm sure I would have figured out mister macho was pregnant about a month before the doctor told him. Hell, Frank just heard he'd been throwing up in the mornings and he knew."

"How does Frank feel about it?" Serene asked. She took one of the homemade breadsticks and tore it in half. The torn end was dunked into the alfredo sauce leftover in her bowl before it disappeared into her mouth. That mouth. Full lips. Perfect size. Perfect shade.

"Sam?"

Her voice jarred him back to the conversation at the table. "Sorry. What?"

"I asked you how Frank feels about it. The baby?" she prodded. "God, where does your mind keep drifting off to?"

"Sorry," Sam made a hasty apology, "long day. Frank? Oh, he's ecstatic." She gave him her doubting look, similar to the one he got about having permission to drive the Impala. "No, really. He's extremely excited, but I can't tell if it's because he really wants to start a family, or if it's just because it means Dean will be home all the time for a while."

Serene sighed. "Well, not that he's talked to me much since meeting Dean, but I'd guess both. Family ranks pretty high with Frank." She studied her mostly empty bowl as the soggy end of her breadstick pushed thick trails through the sauce. "And if you're a good enough friend, he treats you like family. But betray his trust..." She shook her head sadly. "I don't know if there's a way back from that."

Disturbed, Sam leaned down to try to catch her eye. "Oh, I don't know. Frank's really pretty reasonable, and he has to be very forgiving or else he couldn't put up with my brother's crap."

Serene laughed at him now, her eyes with those amazing highlights glinting at him. "Are you kidding? Near as I can tell, it's Dean who has to put up with Frank. You won't believe what he did to me at a party at his house. I think he'd just met Dean..."

Sam didn't hear the whole story, his mind kept drifting to Serene's hair, or the way she tilted her head, the funny way one side of her mouth quirked when she said anything embarrassing about herself. He did catch the gist of Dean and Frank sneaking out during the party to go skinny dipping in the pond, and maybe engaging in some of the 'other' activities usually associated with swimming naked. To be honest Sam didn't care what she was talking about, he just liked the sound of her voice.

After dinner they drove around for a while, just talking about anything that came to mind. When Sam finally dropped her off at home, he was shocked to discover it was after three in the morning. Not wanting to wake the whole house, Sam parked the car in the driveway instead of the garage. He slipped in using his key. Moving silently, Sam headed into the room he had to share with Dad.

He thought he got away with it, safe in bed under the covers, when he heard Dad's voice.

"Playing with fire, Sam. Be careful."

"Night, Dad." Dean was right, it was almost impossible to get anything past Dad. Sam smiled into the dark as he replayed the evening over in his head. If he saw Serene again it would no doubt earn him a lot of grief from his family, but it just might be worth it.

"Dean's going to have your head if he finds out how late you had his car out."

Sam chuckled, and Dad's answering chuckle was like a warm blanket on a cold night. He really did like this town.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24** – _And we're back in my gutter playground with a new chapter in the lives of Dean and Frankie. This time, Frankie pulls something that everyone in a real relationship does: he screws up._

Two weeks after the attack on Dean...

Dean stood sideways, checking out his image in the mirror. He was definitely showing now.

Shit.

He pulled up his new jeans, about six inches larger than he normally wore, and they were tight.

Crap.

Lisa had been bugging him to go shopping for maternity clothes, like that was going to happen. They would probably throw him out on his ass for being a psycho pervert, if he wasn't arrested first. Sure she meant well, but he really didn't see how it would work. He had been noticing certain differences since the excess testosterone worked out of his system. His facial hair wasn't growing like it used to, parts of his body which used to be flat had curves, and his voice was not as deep. And he was fat.

Dean turned to the other side. Yep, just as fat. He leaned closer to the glass. God, even his face was getting fat; round cheeks and his neck wasn't nice and muscular anymore either. One hand went to his ass and Dean decided he didn't want to look, it felt fat enough. Looking could only make it worse.

Why was he getting dressed to go out? He didn't want to be seen in public. With a sigh, he pulled on a t-shirt which had to stretch to accommodate him. Great, now he looked twice as fat. And what the hell was that? He cupped a hand over his formerly flat, muscular left peck. Now it was round and fleshy. Okay, he really didn't want to think about what that could mean. It was probably just more fat. That's what happened when your Nazi doctor made you lounge around for two weeks.

Dean dug through one of Frankie's drawers, through the plaid shirts he liked to see Frankie wear. He picked one with green and blue. This shirt really brought out the blue in Frankie's eyes, like those eyes needed help, maybe it would work with his green. He pulled it on and buttoned it up over his stomach. It was big, moved well, and he didn't look like a balloon.

"Dean!" Sam pounded on the bedroom door. "You're going to be late. Need help with your sling?"

He checked his watch. Shit, Sam was right. "Yeah, come on in!" Dean snatched up his hairbrush and attacked his hair, which insisted on sticking up the wrong way. Would nothing go right today?

"You look nice," Sam said as he walked up behind him.

"Yeah, right," Dean snarled, still trying to get his hair to behave.

"Come here." His brother turned him around gently. Dean sighed as he allowed Sam to put on the stupid thing to immobilize his shoulder. Like he didn't already look like shit, now he looked like wounded shit.

"Maybe I should wear it under the shirt," Dean suggested as Sam worked the straps.

"You know how it rubs your skin, Dean," Sam said in his 'trying not to upset Dean' voice, the one he had been developing over the past month. "Don't worry, you look great."

Dean waited impatiently for Sam to finish. When Sam finally stood aside, and he didn't understand what took so damn long anyway, it never too Frankie that long, he was able to see the overall effect in the mirror. Now he looked like a fat guy with a busted shoulder and bad hair.

"I like the green," Sam said, standing behind him. "Brings out your eyes."

"Really?" Dean leaned closer to see if Sam was telling the truth. Wait a minute... Dean turned around to slap his brother in the shoulder. "Knock it off," he snapped.

Sam grinned as he stumbled backwards, as if Dean had hit him hard. "What? Dean, honest, you look great. Now you better get going or you'll be late. Unless you want me to drive you there?"

Dean shook his head with a grin. He hadn't realized being on bed-rest also meant banned from driving. This was his first chance in over two weeks to take his baby out for a little spin, while he could still fit behind the wheel. At the rate he was expanding, they would have to widen all the doors in the house and hire a crane to move him when it was time to go to the hospital.

The air outside smelled fresh, clean, and of freedom. He liked this town, loved Frankie's house, but God, he needed to get out. The keys caught the sunlight as Dean tossed them up in the air. It was early evening and Frankie was supposed to meet him right after work in the bar where they met, exactly three years after Frankie put that ring on his hand. Yeah, it was sappy. Pure Frankie. And Dean was actually excited about it.

His girl drove perfectly, a seamless union of power and beauty. Dean went for a few unnecessary laps before parking outside the bar, just because. It took a little more effort to get in and out these days, but Dean was not complaining. After all, he had a hot date tonight.

Inside the bar it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Dean made a point of not putting his hands anywhere near his stomach as he approached the bar area. Those pool tables looked tempting, but he could only use one arm and bending over wasn't exactly his strong suit at the moment.

"Hey, Dean!" The bartender, Harry, waved from behind the bar. Harry had probably been here since the sixties and had not changed much since. His gray hair was long and held back in a thin ponytail, which matched his long thin face and sharply defined facial features. Weak eyes peered through thick round wire-rimmed glasses.

Dean smiled and waved back. "Hey, Harry. How are things?" He moved to climb up on one of the bar stools.

"No, no," Harry said shaking his head at Dean, "not there. Come on." He led Dean to a booth with a small vase of fresh flowers on a red tablecloth and a glass of water and a glass of dark colored fluid. He sniffed the dark one, it was root beer.

"Let me guess," Dean said, "you got a phone call?"

Harry beamed at him. "Frank set the table up over lunch. He asked me to be sure your water didn't run out."

"And no actual beer, just root beer?" Dean held up the glass of soda.

Harry smiled as he shrugged. He slid into the booth opposite Dean. "He called about a minute ago. Frank has to close tonight, so he'll be running late."

Dean sighed, leaning back into the padded seat. "Tonight?" Damn it!

"How're you feeling?" Harry asked. "You look pretty healthy."

"If by healthy you mean big," Dean snapped as he ran his hands over his belly before he realized what he was doing. Hastily he dropped them to his sides.

Harry laughed at him. "My wife always thought she was huge, too. She wasn't, but because she wasn't nice and slim anymore, she was really self-conscious about it. I'll bet you're buying bigger clothes instead of maternity stuff too, right?"

Dean kept forgetting what a small town they lived in, and how big Anna's mouth was. Frank did come by his big mouth honestly.

"Don't tell me you're in Anna's fucking phone tree." He watched for Harry's reaction.

Harry laughed lightly, shaking his head. "You know your neighbor, Shelly Benjamin?" Dean nodded slowly. "We play bridge every Thursday night."

Dean ran a hand slowly over his head. "I don't know that I'll ever get used to this place."

Harry grinned at him, clearly amused. "Could be worse. You could be in some impersonal big town where nobody knows and people stare."

"People stare anyway," Dean said softly, glancing around the bar. Just as he suspected, several of the locals looked away the instant Dean caught them watching.

"Because they're curious," Harry said. "There's nothing malicious in it, Dean. Hell, if you slipped on the sidewalk outside, I'll bet there would be about ten people helping you up and insisting on calling your doctor." His cheerful grin was almost enough to make Dean believe him. Almost.

Harry glanced around. "Tell you what. I have to check on the few customers I have, but I'll come back to visit with you in a few. I'd hate for you to sit here all by yourself just waiting on Frank."

"Sure," Dean agreed. "Sounds good."

Harry bustled through the bar, taking drink orders. Dean guessed it was either still too early for a waitress or too slow a night to pay a second person to wait on the customers. Dean sipped at his root beer, the only kind of beer he was allowed these days. That was one thing he did miss: beer. He missed the taste, the tingle of it on his tongue, the way it could wash away certain fears and anxieties. He missed getting smashed with Sam, laughing and punching each other in the arm. So caught up in thinking of all the things he couldn't have right now, in addition to Frankie's company, Dean did not notice the woman standing a few feet away.

"Excuse me?" she said.

Dean pulled himself from his quick wallow in self-pity to the sight standing before him. She was tall, thin but not skinny, well proportioned with curvy hips and breasts that promised fun without being large enough to get trapped under your armpits. She had light blond hair and soft blue eyes. Sam would probably trip over his tongue, she was definitely his type.

"Yeah?" He really wished his voice was lower, closer to normal.

"I asked if I could join you," she said with a friendly smile.

Dean glanced around, but Harry was busy off in the corner and Frank still wasn't here. What the hell. "Sure," he motioned to the other side of his booth. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone." Dean checked his watch. "Who is now officially half an hour late."

She grinned at him. "Lucky me."

"New in town?" Dean asked. She had to be. Only someone not in one of those fucking phone trees would be hitting on him. Not that he minded. He kind of liked the attention; it was nice knowing he wasn't totally repulsive these days.

A puzzled look crossed her face. "Now how could you know that?"

He chuckled at her confusion. "Small town. I'm Dean." He offered his hand.

She shook firmly with her slender hand. "Beth."

"How long have you been in Pearland, Beth?" Dean asked. Oh, how the rumors would fly tomorrow! Anna would probably come over to chew him out too. This was going to be fun.

"About six months. Tell me, do I have a sign on me that says 'just arrived'?" Beth turned her head, like she was trying to look at her back.

Dean liked her, no denying it. He laughed. "Might as well," he admitted. "It's not hard to spot new people around here."

"What about you?" she asked. "I've been here six months and coming to this bar pretty much the whole time, and I've never seen you before. Believe me, I would have noticed you."

Ah, stroke that old ego! Yeah, Frankie could run as late as he wanted. He beamed at her. "Officially, I've lived her for three years. Unofficially, four. But I don't hit the bars as often as I used to."

Her soft blue eyes roamed over him and Dean felt a little nervous, wondering how fat she thought he was. "I don't suppose you play pool?" she asked.

Dean motioned to his bum shoulder. "Not tonight."

"Oh." Beth looked disappointed.

"I wouldn't mind watching you play, giving you some pointers," he offered. It would also allow him to watch her bend over the table as she lined up her shots. He'd really like Frankie to walk in about then.

She shook her head. "Not as much fun."

"Darts?" Dean offered. "I play a mean game of darts."

Her face lit up. "Sure, sounds like fun! Which one of these are you drinking?" Beth motioned to his two drinks.

Dean slid out of the booth. "I got it." He grabbed his root beer before leading her over to the dart boards.

"Hey, Dean!" A friendly voice called out. Some guy Dean knew by sight but not name jogged over. "Dude, it's been a while!"

"Yeah, guess so." Dean gave him a smile and set down his drink so the guy could pump his right hand.

The guy let out a low whistle as he checked out Dean's shoulder. "Wow. I heard they broke the bat on your shoulder. Hurt much?"

Dean shrugged with his good shoulder. "Not too bad. Have you met Beth? She's new in town."

The guy smiled broadly at her. "Stan. I've seen you around, nice to meet you." She shook his hand politely. After a few more pleasantries, Stan returned to his group of friends playing pool.

"Who goes first?" Beth asked as she set out his darts.

"Go ahead," Dean offered, eyes straying to the door. What the hell was keeping Frankie, anyway?

* * *

Frank stared at the new cashier, not quite believing the mess he was in. She had counted down her drawer at least six times now and come up with a different total each time. And none of them matched what she was supposed to have. He checked the clock. He was now an hour and a half late for his anniversary date. Dean wasn't going to kill him, he was going to be disemboweled. Alive.

Frustrated, but remembering his promise not to let work stress him out, Frank took the cash drawer away from the air-headed cashier. He totaled her credit card receipts, which matched perfectly. Setting those aside, Frank tallied her checks before diving into the mess of her cash. Some of the bills weren't even in the right compartments, no wonder her totals were always wrong. He organized her drawer and got a total. Ten dollars short.

"Screw it," Frank mumbled, pulling out his wallet. He added a ten to the pile before locking it all up in the safe.

"Oh, Mister Warren, thank you so much for helping me," the air-head babbled as he tried to lock up the store. "I just don't know where my head was tonight. It was like I couldn't add."

"Not a good thing when you're handling money," Frank told her. "You have all your stuff?" he demanded, holding the front door open.

"Oh, I need my purse!" She raced into the back room.

Frank tried breathing deeply, but it really wasn't helping. If Dean checked his blood pressure tonight it would probably be sky-high. Crap. He might be looking for a new job tomorrow.

Just like that. He promised.

Finally she rushed out the front door. Frank set the alarm before pulling it closed and locking it. Yes! He ran over to his car, not that arriving two minutes faster would make much difference at this point.

"Mister Warren, are you in a hurry?" the air-head asked as she followed him out to his car. "Because I was wondering if you could see me home? It's kind of late."

Frank paused at the car. Was she serious? "Sorry, it's my anniversary and I'm already late. I might be living out of the office tomorrow."

"Oh. Well, could you wait until I'm in my car?"

Frank sighed heavily as he opened his car door. "Yeah, sure. Go on."

"Thanks!" She raced over to her car parked next to the front door. As she drove past him, she leaned out the window to shout, "Tell Dean happy anniversary from me!"

Frank waved her out. Damn young kids. No, Frank amended as he pulled out of the parking lot, damn air-heads. Not all kids were air-heads. He and Dean would make sure theirs wasn't. Speaking of which, why hadn't his phone rung with threats or worried calls from Dean? Frank pulled his cell out to be sure it wasn't off or dead. No, it seemed to be working perfectly. No missed calls either.

Uh-oh.

Frank swallowed hard as he pressed down on the accelerator. He swung into the parking lot of The Bar, eyes searching for the Impala. Relief swept over him when he spotted it at the far end of the parking lot. Frank parked next to it. He headed inside filled with trepidation. Why hadn't Dean called?

Frank headed straight for the booth he had set up. There was a half full glass of water, but no Dean. Harry was busy with customers at the bar. Damn it. Well, maybe Dean was in the bathroom or something. Frank slid into the booth to wait.

After a few minutes he noticed Harry waving at him. Frank started to go over to see what the older guy wanted, but Harry kept motioning towards the back. Frank looked over the pool tables, the most obvious attraction, no Dean. Then he checked out the dart boards in the very back. It was Dean's laugh that caught his attention first. Frank followed it to find Dean and a woman playing darts. Dean appeared relaxed and happy, which was kind of disturbing considering how late it he was for their date.

The woman made a bad throw, so bad she didn't even hit the board. Dean's laugh sounded again. Frank moved a little closer. Dean was demonstrating how he wanted her to throw. She tried again, the beer in her other hand sloshing as she made another bad throw. Dean took her beer away and set it aside. Now he stood behind her, held her hand in his as he showed her the right motion.

She made a better throw this time and smiled up at Dean. Dean grinned back. All the air in his chest froze, trapped painfully as Frank watched Dean flirt. Dean was flirting with some strange woman. The strange woman was flirting back, batting her eyes and finding reasons to rub up against him. He didn't know who he wanted to hurt more, Dean, the woman, or the air-head from the store who couldn't count.

Frank pulled up a stool to watch as the cold knife twisted past his lungs into his heart. After a few more minutes of this torture, Frank cleared his throat. Loud.

"Oh, hey, Frank," Dean said casually. Frank flinched at not being called 'Frankie.' Yeah, he was in deep, deep, deep trouble. "Have you met Beth yet? She moved here about six months ago."

"Hi," Beth gushed. She seemed a little tipsy. "Wow, there are so many good looking men in this town!" She eyed him up and down.

"Have you had dinner yet?" Frank asked Dean, ignoring the woman.

"Well, I was _supposed_ to have dinner two hours ago," Dean informed him coldly. "But I got tired of waiting, so Beth and I ordered from the bar."

"You and-and-and Beth. Well. Isn't that nice?" Frank forced a fake smile on his face. He could see Dean's eyes dancing with delight at his discomfort. "I had to work late, so I haven't eaten yet. Care to join me? I'll buy dessert."

Maybe he could salvage part of the evening.

"Ooooh!" Beth dropped her darts. "Dessert sounds good, doesn't it, Dean?"

Then again...

"Tell you what," she was focused on Dean. "Find a table and I'll meet you there. I have to use the ladies room." Beth giggled. "Again."

Dean flashed his winning smile at her. "Well, you know what they say about beer. You don't buy it..."

She cackled loudly. "You rent it! Oh, Dean, you're such a crack-up! Back in a flash." Beth stumbled over a chair in the aisle. She gave them a sheepish grin over her shoulder after catching herself. Dean winked at her and she giggled again.

Frank watched her walk around the bar toward the restrooms. "I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?"

"Oh, yeah." Dean gave him a tight, wounded smile as he lifted a glass of dark fluid to his mouth.

Frank wanted to ask to be sure it was root beer, but he didn't dare. Questioning Dean right now, well, he was in enough trouble as it was. It was root beer. It had to be. Dean's eyes were perfectly clear and he was very steady on his feet. On his feet.

"Want to sit down?" Frank asked carefully.

Dean glared at him for a moment before nodding. "My feet are killing me," he said as they made their way to the booth Frank set up earlier today.

"Beth seems...nice." Frank stood by as Dean slid slowly into the booth.

Dean smiled broadly. "She is nice. New in town."

"Obviously," Frank agreed. If she wasn't new in town, she wouldn't be hitting on Dean. It wasn't like this was a bar that catered to several counties, The Bar was strictly a local joint. Man, not only was he in trouble at home, but people would be harassing him about Dean being hit on by some transplant because he was late to dinner. Why was taking this promotion a good idea again?

Frank started to sit across from Dean when that grin spread wider. "What?" he asked nervously.

"You do realize she's not going to sit next to you?" Dean asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Frank narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You planning on letting her sit next to you?" he demanded.

Dean shrugged his good shoulder. Frank frowned, turning the dilemma over in his mind. He jumped up, knowing Dean was watching, to grab a chair. Putting it at the end of the booth, Frank sat down closer to Dean. The drunk slut could sit in the booth opposite him.

"Frank!" Harry grabbed him by the shoulder. "Good to see you, son."

"Thanks, Harry." Frank looked up to smile at him, but Harry did not appear as happy as he sounded.

Harry leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Boy, you really screwed up."

"Yeah, thanks, Harry." Like he didn't know that already.

"Dean? How's that root beer?" Harry asked loudly.

"Getting low," Dean replied, still grinning.

"Frank? How about you?" Harry asked with a stern look.

"Uh, the same?" Frank looked for Harry's approval. Harry nodded before heading back for the bar.

"So you had dinner already?" he asked Dean. "Or just appetizers?"

"Fried cheese, onion rings, chili cheese fries." One hand ran up the slight bulge in Dean's stomach.

"You're full, aren't you?" Frank asked, allowing his disappointment to show.

"Depends on what you had in mind," Dean said airily.

"Well," Frank drummed his fingers nervously on the table, "I did have a nice dinner planned. Cheeseburgers with the works. Serene's peach pie for dessert."

"Sounds good," Dean replied without missing a beat, "better make it for three."

Holy crap. Dean was really, really pissed.

"Any idea what it'll take to get me out of the doghouse?" Frank pleaded.

"Not yet." The gentle smile belied the anger boiling in those green, green eyes. He did have some wonderful, expressive eyes.

"Shirt looks good on you," Frank said slowly. "I like the way it sets off your eyes."

Dean rolled those eyes, but Frank could tell he was pleased. It was going to take a lot more than that, though.

"Oh, we get the fancy booth?" Beth asked as she fell into the open side. "I was wondering about it. Any idea what it was set up for?"

"Apparently it was somebody's anniversary," Dean said with that edge to his voice. "But they no-showed."

Ouch.

"Is it still a no-show if they were just running late?" Frank asked.

"Running late is ten minutes, maybe half an hour," Dean told him, face going hard and cold. "Over two hours, without a phone call, is a no-show."

Okay, mortally wounded now. Frank didn't see how he could possibly recover from that one.

Beth blinked beer-blurry eyes at them. "What'd I miss? Because I'm pretty sure I missed something here." Her hands waved over the table.

"Don't worry about it," Dean told her with his winning smile. "Want another beer?"

She shook her head. "I think I'm drunk enough. Didn't somebody mention dessert?"

"I'll go place that order. Beth? You like cheeseburgers?" Frank asked politely as he stood.

"With the works!" she shouted, one hand piercing the air. Dean gave her another one of his bright, hustling smiles.

Frank grit his teeth as he walked away. Instead of calling first for the burgers, he called Sam from the bathroom hallway.

"Frank? What's up?" Sam's voice was heavy with worry.

"Everything's fine," he started, but really that was a lie. "No, everything is not fine! I screwed up, Sam. I mean I really, really screwed up."

"Shit, Frank. You didn't say he looked round or something stupid like that?" Sam demanded.

"What? No! Are you crazy?" Frank took a deep breath before admitting his sin. "I just got here about five minutes ago."

Total silence from the other end. Frank glanced at his phone to be sure he still had a connection. "Sam, you there?"

"I'm here," Sam said slowly. "I'm just really hoping I didn't hear what I thought I heard."

"I know, I know. Two hours late, on our anniversary. And it gets worse." Frank knocked his forehead against the closest wall.

"Dude, it can't get much worse than that," Sam replied.

"There's some woman here who I guess has been hitting on Dean the whole time," Frank told him, hitting the wall again. "And I have no idea how to get rid of her."

He didn't expect Sam to laugh at him. "Dude, she's probably the only reason Dean's still there instead of here, sharpening his knife collection. At this point the best thing you can do is go along with whatever Dean does. If he wants to get rid of her, believe me, he can do it."

Frank sighed. "I was afraid you'd say something like that. Okay, I have to call Serene now. She promised to bring over cheeseburgers and pie for two. Now I have to make it for three."

"Serene?" Frank heard Sam perk up. Oh, man, didn't Dean warn him about her? "Uh, tell you what. I'll go by the diner and pick up the food. It'll give me an excuse to come by. Maybe I can get Dean outside to vent a little. How's that sound?"

"Great. Thanks. Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't date her, man. She doesn't have a rep for being a total bitch for nothing," Frank warned him.

"Dude, right now you are the last person to be giving advice on relationships," Sam said just before he hung up.

Good point. What the hell did he know? A quick phone call changed their dinner order from two to three people, and Serene sounded pleased about Sam picking it up. Good god, what could he do about that? Right now – nothing.

Frank slammed his forehead against the wall one last time, for good measure, before heading back to Dean. Dean was smiling at Beth and she was laughing loudly. Yep, they had been having a good old time without him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25** – _Welcome back to the gutter! Yes, we will be taking another dip today in those murky waters, but first...can Frankie get out of the doghouse?_

Dean spotted Sam coming through the door, arms laden with bags of food. There'd better be some of Serene's pie in there, or Frankie was getting his ass kicked. Hell, he was probably getting his ass kicked anyway. At that thought, his eyes darted over to where Frankie sat next to him. Frankie shifted in the hard chair, distinctly uncomfortable. Served him right. New job wouldn't change anything, huh? Just meant more money, huh?

Uh-huh.

Sam beamed at them when he walked up to the table. "Well, I hope everyone's hungry." He set out the white containers, two per person.

Beth glanced between Dean and Frankie a few times before going for her purse. She held up a couple of dollars.

Sam snatched the money. "Thank you, ma'am. Most people around here don't tip."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Give it back, Sam," he called out as his little brother spun around to walk away.

Sam turned back to glare at him. The kid actually wanted to keep the money? Mister Honesty? Dean glared back, jerking his chin at Beth. "Sam!"

Sam huffed as he handed over the money.

"But-but I always tip," Beth protested, still holding it out.

"I like her," Sam said as he reached for the money again.

"Sam!"

Sam blew out a frustrated breath as he turned away. "Fine, then you give me the money for dinner. I didn't have enough to pay Serene, and you know how she is."

Bullshit. Sam wanted to talk. Actually, little bro was being pretty smooth for a change. "Fine," Dean sighed. Frankie reached out a helping hand, until Dean stared him down. Frankie's gaze diverted sullenly down at the table while Dean used his good arm to get to his feet. He followed Sam outside without bothering to look back.

"I swear, Sam," Dean started as he exited The Bar, "if you ask if I'm okay, I will knock your ass out."

Sam held up both hands, backing away. "No, no, nothing like that." He lowered his hands slowly. "How's the hot date?"

Dean groaned. He sat on one of the outdoor benches. Sam joined him within seconds. Good kid. "Titantic."

"As in..." Sam's hand dove straight down.

Dean nodded. "And iceberg cold."

"Two hours late, huh?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced over. "Frank called you. That's why you brought the food. Good, I was afraid it was because you were hanging out with Serene."

"Ouch," Sam said with a groan. "Frank not Frankie? You are pissed. And what's wrong with Serene?"

"She's a bitch," Dean told his little brother. "If you could see past the 36 – 26 - 38 body you'd see it."

"Dean, she's not..." Sam glanced over. "Really? 36-26-38?" Sam looked kind of pleased.

"Yep." Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Monogamous. Not dead, Sam."

"Speaking of, are you going to cut Frank any slack?" Sam asked. "He's kind of freaking out. I mean, he actually called to ask **me** for advice."

He tried to hold it in, he really did, but the chuckle escaped anyway. "Then he's more freaked out than I thought." Dean grinned at his brother. "I don't think he's gonna do it again, do you?"

"Stand you up? Uh, that would be no. As a matter of fact, I suspect he'll be an hour early from now on." Sam grinned back. "If he has half a brain, that is."

"'course he has half a brain," Dean grumbled as he pushed off the bench, "he picked me up, didn't he?"

"Just goes to show which brain he thinks with," Sam said with a grin as he helped to pull Dean up.

Dean shrugged as he returned the grin. "Typical guy."

"Uh, no." Sam shook his head and he got all serious. "Frank is definitely not your typical guy. He's better than that. And, uh, I think he's good for you." Sam shrugged and his hand wrapped around the back of Dean's neck to squeeze lightly. "Happy anniversary?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, okay. I guess you need to drive Beth home. She's way too smashed to drive."

"If she passes out, can I have her pie?" Sam asked as he followed Dean back inside.

Dean laughed at his brother. "Go suck up to Serene if you want pie."

Sam's eyes laughed at him. "Whatever you say, big brother."

"Hold it, I didn't mean that," Dean tried.

"Uh-uh, too late. You said," Sam poked him in the good shoulder.

Dean used his good side to shove his little brother into the wall. "Bitch."

Sam laughed as he feel in step beside him. "Jerk."

Though they walked side by side, Dean knew he was in the lead. It felt good, like old times. Frank's white to-go containers stood unopened on the table. Beth was chewing on her burger, watching for him to come back. Clearly Frank had no intention of even speaking to her. Jealous much?

"Hey, Beth," Dean said without sitting down. "Listen, this is my brother Sam. He's going to give you a ride home."

Beth froze in mid-chew. She swallowed hard, clearing her mouth. "What? What are you talking about?"

Dean grinned at her again to put her at ease. "You're too drunk to drive yourself, so Sam is going to take you."

"B-but I thought we were having a nice time?" Her eyes were wide and her pupils so dilated he could barely see the blue of her eyes. She was more smashed than he thought.

"We were, but my date finally showed up," Dean explained. He jerked his head at Frankie. Beth frowned as she looked between him and Frank. "You do remember that I was waiting for somebody to show up?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess." Beth's eyes narrowed as she studied them. "Why did you call him your date?" Her words slurred a little and Dean had a feeling this was not going to go well.

He sat back down on his side of the booth. "Because it's our anniversary." Dean smiled at her again. "Thanks for being great company while I waited on the big idiot."

Beth stood up looking dazed. "But-but this is a small town. There aren't supposed to be people like you here!" Her voice raised to a shout. She turned away to address the rest of the bar. "What's wrong with you people? Why haven't you run them off?"

Dean gave Frankie an apologetic look. "Okay, she's a lot drunker than I thought."

"And a bigger bitch than Serene," Frankie whispered conspiratorially. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Now what?" she screamed.

Dean's attention snapped to the room around them. Pretty much everyone in the place was gathering around them. Oh, man. Perfect, just freaking perfect. Now he was a fat guy with a busted shoulder and bad hair on display for the whole frigging bar. Fuck. His cheeks burned as he dropped his head and covered his face with his available hand.

"Sam, did I hear you volunteer to take her home?" Harry's voice broke over the murmurs of the crowd.

"I'll help," someone else said.

When Dean heard a squeal, he peered over his fingertips. It was the guy whose name he couldn't remember – Stan? - with Beth draped over one shoulder, ass in the air. Stan motioned for Sam to lead the way. The crowd parted for them. Was it his imagination or were the locals glaring at Beth? Most of them followed Sam outside, though it was beyond Dean why. When Dean glanced over at Frankie, the big guy had a funny grin on his face, kind of like when he thought he had a good poker hand.

Harry pushed through the remaining crowd to take away what was left of Beth's burger. When he reached for the pie container, Dean had the presence of mind to grab it. No way was he letting any of that blue-ribbon pie go to waste.

"Pie?" Harry asked gently as he pushed the container closer to Dean. "Anything else I can get you boys?"

"How about some privacy?" Frankie asked as he slid into the spot where Beth had been sitting. Harry smiled at them as he took away the extra chair and started shooing the bystanders away.

"Hey, uh, happy anniversary." One of the lingering members of the crowd said as he passed by, heading toward the back. Several of the others who walked by also wished them a happy anniversary. When the crowd who followed Sam outside trickled back in, some of them made a point of coming by their table and at least smiling or giving them a wave. A few stopped to offer congratulations as well.

"What the hell?" Dean whispered when he thought they wouldn't be overheard.

Frankie grinned broadly. "I love this town." One arm swept out. "See what I mean now?"

Dean ran his hand over his head, not quite believing any of this evening had happened. "Why didn't I stay in bed today?"

Stan approached their table. "Hey, man, sorry about that. She's been hanging around for a few months, we thought she was harmless." He shrugged. "I'm sure somebody will set her straight after she has some time to sleep it off. If not, well, I have a truck." He flashed them a smile. "I hear congratulations are in order. I can't wait to see the baby shower."

"Thanks," Frankie said, pumping Stan's hand.

When Stan finished shaking Frankie's hand, he held it out to Dean. Still feeling like he was stuck in the Twilight Zone, Dean shook it.

"And it looks like the bed-rest agreed with you, Dean. Lookin' good, man. Catch ya later." Stan left them alone with a short wave.

Shocked, Dean stared at Frankie.

"Babe?" Frankie asked. "What's wrong? Other than I'm a total screw-up?"

Dean motioned towards the ceiling. "I'm waiting for the Rod Serling voice-over."

"Pie?" Frankie asked as he held out a plastic fork.

Dean accepted the fork, his brain on automatic. "You really called Sam for advice about tonight?"

Frankie sighed as he leaned on the table. "Yeah, well, I was desperate."

"Not Dad? Sam?" Dean repeated.

Frankie's head tilted to one side and he got that curious look on his face. "Of course I called Sam. If I wanted somebody to beat her up or scare her half to death I would've called your dad."

"Dad wouldn't beat her up," Dean replied slowly, still trying to focus on the issue at hand. "But you called Sam." He allowed a smile to form. "So I scared the crap out of you?"

Frankie gave him a short nervous chuckle. "Yeah. I don't think I've ever felt that jealous before." Then he shrugged. "Not that I blame her, of course. I mean, you're practically irresistible."

"Practically?" Dean asked as his smile broadened.

"Well, with the way you look tonight, I might have to go with totally irresistible," Frankie told him. "Am I off the hook yet?"

Dean's smile dropped. "Two hours late and not one fucking phone call? You've got to be kidding."

He motioned to the table. "Don't I get a few points here?"

"Not enough," Dean snapped. "I want you to take me out to a nice place. Tomorrow night." He glared across the table. "On time."

"Sure. No problem. Where?" Frankie asked, his words tumbling over each other in a flurry.

"I'll think about it," Dean replied, though he had already made up his mind. "But if you're so much as one minute late..."

Frankie was shaking his head, dark curly hair looking as disheveled as he acted. "No, no, no. I swear, Dean. Honest. Never again."

"And if you are..." Dean prompted, glaring.

"I'll call. Before I'm late." Frankie looked hopeful. "Please?" He gave Dean that boyish grin which was so hard to turn down.

"Fine." Dean opened one of the pie containers and put it between them. "Help me eat this."

Frankie's hand ran up his arm to squeeze his bicep. "Babe, I really am sorry. I wanted this to be a special night."

"Shut up and eat," Dean told him, tired of being so angry. It took a lot of energy to stay that mad.

"Maybe I ought to eat my burger..." Dean glared, his anger once again hot and at the ready. Frankie was turning down his frigging peace offering now?

"But pie is good," Frankie amended quickly. "I like pie." He stuffed a forkful in his mouth. "See?" he mumbled around it. "Pie good."

Dean had to chuckle at his big idiot as his anger drained away. Ah, Serene did make the best damn pie he ever tasted.

--

Dad's truck was on the street when Dean pulled up. He didn't think about it before, but Sam was probably in Dad's truck on his errand to help pull Frankie out of the deep, dark hole of disaster. Dean definitely owed the kid now. He parked in the garage and waited for Frankie to park before opening his door.

Crap. He was more tired than he thought. Okay, if he rested here for just a minute, sitting with his feet on the ground and huge ass on the car seat, he ought to have enough energy to push himself to a stand.

"How about a hand up?" Frankie asked with an outstretched hand.

Well, if he had two hands to use, he might not need to take breaks like this. Dean let Frankie pull him out of the car. Once he was on his feet, he felt better.

"Thanks," Dean said as he walked out of the garage. The door closed behind them with a growl of the aging mechanism. Too bad he didn't feel up to jacking with it, that might be a project to keep him busy for a few days.

"You ready to go in?" Frankie asked as he stepped quickly up to walk beside Dean.

"Why?" Dean asked, pausing. "You have something else in mind?"

Frankie shrugged and smiled at him. "How about a walk?"

Dean checked his watch. "Dude, it's after eleven."

"So? It's still our anniversary." Frankie's hand slipped into his. "But only if you feel up to it."

He could not quite bring himself to say no to the hopeful expression on Frankie's face. "Yeah, okay."

They walked hand in hand down the street to the park behind Frankie's neighborhood. The walk around the pond was pleasant. A gentle breeze brought the scents of pine and water while caressing his cheeks with refreshing coolness. A lone frog croaked from somewhere along the water's edge. Frankie led him to a dark shadow to the park bench there. They sat side by side, Frankie on his right with their hands still clasped together.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to strip?" Frankie's deep voice pierced the soft night sounds.

Dean laughed, leaning into the big guy. "Hell no."

Frankie's other hand wrapped around Dean's while his left arm snaked around Dean's back, drawing him in closer. "I'll bet you're beautiful in the moonlight," he whispered into Dean's ear.

Dean shook his head against Frankie's shoulder. "Forget it. There's no way I'm taking my clothes off any place other than a dark room."

"Why not, babe?" Frankie asked.

"I'm fat!" Dean snapped.

Frankie's hand ran down under his shirts to touch his bare skin. Dean shuddered at the warmth of the huge hand on his back. "You're gorgeous," he whispered into Dean's ear.

"Liar," Dean whispered, but he leaned into Frankie's body and his touch.

"I could take care of you here," Frankie offered. "It is still our anniversary."

Dean shook his head. "Not here," he said. "Really not up to it."

"Okay, babe," Frankie replied, still holding him close. "Can I ask you about something?"

Dean closed his eyes and breathed in Frankie's rich scent. He leaned heavily on his life-partner, and wasn't that a cumbersome way to think of it? There had to be an easier way, but he was too tired to worry about it right now. "What?" he mumbled.

"Did you know this state still has common-law marriage on the books?" Frankie asked.

"So?" Dean peered up in the dim lighting at Frankie's face. He certainly looked serious.

"So, it wouldn't mess up our anniversary," Frankie said.

Dean pushed up to look Frankie right in the face. "What are you talking about?" His heart beat wildly in his chest and the air was thick and heavy, difficult to draw into his lungs.

Frankie's bright, wide smile spread. "I'm talking about getting married. You know, legally, without all the fuss. Somehow I just don't see you going down the aisle in a white dress six months pregnant."

"W-why?" Dean stuttered.

Now Frankie's frown creased his goofy, boyish face. "You want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle? Really?"

Dean's elbow shot into Frankie's ribs. "No, you idiot. Why do you want to get legally married? What we have isn't good enough?"

Frankie's hand dropped his to caress the side of his face. "No," he replied softly, "it isn't. I want more. I want to be sure I can take care of you, no matter what. That anytime you're hurt, I get a phone call. And if anything were to happen to me, everything would go to you."

"Don't talk like that," Dean begged, unable to fathom anything bad happening to Frankie, ever again.

"We're going to be parents, Dean," Frankie said. "I have to think about it, to make sure I do everything I can for both of you." A hard kiss pressed against his temple. "But mostly I want to be able to say we're married and mean it."

"Do..." Dean swallowed hard, shocked the words were so difficult to say. "Do you really think they'll let us?"

Frankie beamed at him. "Is that a yes?"

Dean couldn't believe how much like a girl he was acting, but he could feel a thin trickle of tears down his cheeks and his voice was no longer operational. He nodded and his agreement was rewarded with one of Frankie's world-stopping kisses. Then they sat out there staring at the quiet pond with Frankie planting the occasional kiss on his cheek or in his hair.

"Come on," Frankie finally said, pulling Dean to a stand with him. "You should be in bed."

Dean used his good arm to hang on to Frankie's waist as they walked slowly back to the house. "Doc said I could start walking every day," he told Frankie.

Frankie gave him a squeeze. "Can I come?"

"Depends on the kind of walk," Dean replied as he grinned.

"Now who's a kinky bastard?" Frankie teased.

The house was quiet when they went in, Steve's car still not out front. Dean idly wondered if Steve might have scored tonight as they headed for the bedroom. Instead of using the overhead light, Frankie turned on the lamp by the bed. Before Frankie helped him out of the stupid sling so he could change for bed, he made Dean stand in front of the mirror.

"See?" Frankie whispered in his ear as broad arms wound around him. "Gorgeous."

Dean shook his head at Frankie in the mirror. "Okay, you're out of the doghouse. Knock it off."

"But I mean it," Frankie protested. He released the straps, unbinding Dean's left arm. Dean sighed with relief at being able to move and flex it. Frankie insisted on unbuttoning his shirt and helping him out of it. "This goes in your drawer from now on," Frankie said as he tossed the shirt at the chest of drawers, "it looks much better on you."

"You're already out of the doghouse," Dean growled. "Enough already."

Frankie beamed at him as warm hands ran over his cheeks. "I can't stop," he whispered, "I just love everything about you."

Now they were veering dangerously into chick-flick territory. "Frankie..."

"Yeah, I know," Frankie said lightly as he grabbed the bottom of Dean's shirt. It took some maneuvering to get it off these days, but it wasn't the first time Frankie had helped, either. First the shirt went up to his armpits, then Dean pulled his good arm out, Frankie pulled it over his head and finally off the bad shoulder. Frankie paused in helping to shed most of his clothes, tossing them across the room in the general direction of the dirty clothes hamper while Dean managed to get his jeans open. Frankie pushed them down and held them while Dean stepped out. Before Dean could move away, Frankie was pushing his underwear down too.

"You do remember I said I was tired?" Dean asked, half teasing.

Frankie looked up with a glint in his eyes. "I'm not messing up any more today. Now get your gorgeous naked ass on the bed so I can take care of you."

"Nope." It felt weird to lift his left arm, but he hoped to get the night off from the stupid sling. Dean ran his hands over Frankie's shoulders to hold on to the back of his neck. He leaned up to press a series of kisses along Frankie's jaw. "C'mon baby," he murmured against Frankie's smooth skin, "wanna shower?"

Frankie groaned as his hands roamed over Dean's back. Then Frankie made a quicker move than Dean thought the big guy could, and the next thing he knew he was suspended in the air, held up by those awesome arms. Frankie laughed at him as they moved closer to the bed. Dean really hoped they weren't close to anything Frankie could knock his head against, the big klutz.

"You should see your face," Frankie chuckled. They collapsed on the bed together. "You looked scared to death."

"Nah," Dean protested as he rolled on to his good side to face Frankie. "Just caught me off-guard."

Frankie grinned his huge silly grin and Dean felt his heart melt at the sight. "I didn't think that was possible," he said in a light, teasing voice. "Dean Winchester? Off-guard?"

"It's possible." Dean leaned closer to catch Frankie's mouth with his own. He wrapped a leg over Frankie's hip before breaking away. "Especially with you."

"Yeah?" Frankie moved between his legs, one hand teasing his warm, wet opening.

Dean groaned, moving on Frankie's fingers. "Yeah," he replied in a breathless voice.

Now Frankie was also kissing his neck. "Why is that?" he asked as he hit that spot below Dean's ear which turned his knees to jelly, so it was a good thing they were in bed.

Dean's eyes rolled back in his head from just how good it all felt. "Don't...need...to."

Frankie froze, his fingers still inside Dean. The big guy lifted his mouth off Dean's neck to look him in the eye. "You don't need to? What?"

"Keep my guard up around you," Dean snapped. "What'd you stop for?"

This time it wasn't the silly grin, it was the beaming smile on Frankie's face. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Frankie!" Dean hissed as he thrust on Frankie's fingers.

Still beaming, Frankie lowered his head to continue paying attentions to Dean's neck. Those talented fingers resumed their stroking, making his breath short and heavy and conversation impossible. Then Frankie's mouth was sucking on his left nipple and it felt different from normal, like more of his chest was actually inside, but it was nice. The pressure of Frankie's sucking was painful, but in a good way. Sparks of pleasure came from the pain, making him moan.

Frankie's mouth released him, suckling back up his neck as the fingers fell away in favor of hard warmth which filled him. Dean tightened his legs around Frankie's waist but he let Frankie set the pace. A large warm hand, with still wet fingers, ran up his thigh to his hip. Dean felt the pulsing start deep, spreading from the inside out. His hips rocked against Frankie as the orgasm washed over him. Then Frankie's hand was on his cock, rubbing up and down with the same pace. When the hand tightened on him, Dean opened his eyes to see Frankie making his weird faces. Dean squeezed his legs harder, tighter, bearing down on Frankie. Frankie gasped as they rode out their orgasms, bodies pressed tight and grinding together.

Now Frankie was kissing him in the same desperate way he had when Dean left to go see Sam at school. Dean returned it, wanting Frankie to see it had been a good date after all.

"Can we go tomorrow?" Frankie asked when he pulled away. "To the courthouse?"

"You were serious," Dean said, still not quite believing it. "What if they say no?"

Frankie grinned at him. "How can they? The judge kind of frowns on unwed mothers."

Dean felt his eyes widen as a fresh realization hit him. "Holy crap."

"What?" Frankie raised up on his elbow. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Dean stared into Frankie's deep blue eyes. "What the hell is this kid going to call me?"

The silly grin was back. "Whatever you want, babe. I'm planning on being Pop. How does that sound?"

"Pop?" Dean stared at him. "That's what you call your dad, isn't it?" Frankie nodded, still grinning. "I don't think I can handle being called Mom."

"Why not Dad?" Frankie suggested. He got out of bed to turn off the light before sliding in behind Dean, where Dean would be able to rest on him and keep any weight off the bum shoulder. Frankie's hand slid across his skin to rest on the bulge from Dean's stomach. "You'd make a great dad."

"Yeah. I think I can be a dad," Dean agreed as he relaxed against Frankie. "That might work."

This whole thing might work, Dean thought as he stared into the dark room with a warm body pressed against his back. It just might work.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26** – _a father-child talk, marriage, and when Serene uses her powers of Bitch for Good._

The early morning air smelled crisp and clear. A few birds sang in the park behind the neighborhood, presenting an idyllic version of small town America. John sat outside with a steaming mug of coffee waiting on Dean. Their anniversary dinner ran late last night, which was probably a good thing if Sam wasn't exaggerating about Frank being two hours late. Either way, he and Dean needed a little time to talk before he left. There were some demon signs around Norfolk he wanted to check out, before it was too late.

"Hey, Dad." Dean came outside, the coffee mug with the bright red heart and Dean's name on it in his good hand. Dean had to squat to sit, balancing on the edge of the chair before he sidled back into a fully seated position. "What's up?"

"I'm going to need to hit the road soon, son," John said a little regretfully. Dean nodded, his face a placid mask hiding his real emotions. "And I might invite Sam to go with me."

The mask shattered, leaving Dean staring in utter disbelief. "What?" his voice roared in the still morning air. "After all that 'don't follow me' and 'it isn't safe' crap? Now you're going to invite **Sam** to go with you?"

John heard the implied 'so I wasn't good enough' in Dean's outrage and couldn't blame the kid for thinking that way. Those pregnancy hormones probably weren't helping him out either.

"I just thought I'd get him out of your hair for a little while. I'm not expecting this to take more than a few weeks." He shrugged. "Besides, by the time we get to Virginia the demon should have already come and gone. It's more recon than anything. I'm still trying to figure out what this bastard is up to."

He watched a muscle in Dean's jaw jump a couple of times before Dean nodded once, eyes focused on some distant point. "You'll call?" It was more of a demand than a request, like Dean wasn't going to allow it without certain provisions. And actually, knowing Dean, he could stop it if he wanted.

"We'll call," John promised.

Dean fixed him with a hard look. "Sam isn't in my hair," he said slowly, an undercurrent of anger in his words.

"You and Frank deserve a little time for just the two of you," John told him. "After the baby comes, everything changes. Your whole world will change." He offered his oldest a smile. "And it's worth it. The first time you see those bright eyes look up at you, it's all worth it."

The stern look faded from Dean's face. "Really?" His voice was guarded, cautious. John couldn't blame him for that, either.

John nodded earnestly at him. "You don't just love your kids, Dean. You fall **in** love with them, from the first time you hold 'em. I can't really explain it, but I would have done anything for you and Sammy, to keep you safe."

Dean nodded slowly. "I know, Dad," he said softly. "And you did."

John knew better. He had tried, but it was Dean who kept his boys safe most of the time and he still couldn't bring himself to voice it. Admitting it out loud would be to admit his many failures, the things he could never take back. So he sipped his coffee instead, retreating to the safety of dark, hot caffeine.

"Come up with any good names yet?" John asked.

"Maybe," Dean replied and there was a twinkle in his eye John had missed seeing in the past four years. "But you'll have to show up in about five months to find out."

John returned the smile. "I'll be sure to be here," he promised, though he knew it was a promise he might not be able to keep. Dean grinned as if he believed John, but John knew better than that too. Dean was merely playing along, also hoping he could be here.

* * *

Dean sat nervously in the passenger seat as they drove to the courthouse. It should be farther away, Dean thought as they pulled up less than ten minutes after leaving the house. Frankie's smile was so sweet and encouraging Dean didn't have the heart to say he'd changed his mind. They climbed the marble steps to the front door slowly, Dean taking his time and Frankie keeping pace with him.

It seemed they had an appointment, so maybe Frankie had this planned all along and it wasn't just to get out of the deep, dark hole of doghouse-dom. The thought had Dean's cheeks burning and he hoped they didn't look as red as they felt. They were taken to a small cubicle where an older woman with a bright smile and hair in the early stages of graying waited for them.

"Good morning!" she said brightly. "I see you're here about a common-law marriage certificate?"

"Yes, ma'am," Frankie replied as he helped Dean sit. One good arm and a big belly were not a good combination, even if Frankie denied his stomach was as huge as it felt.

"Frank," the woman glared at him, "you graduated high school with my baby sister. I swear, if you call me ma'am again..."

Frankie grinned at her as he took his seat next to Dean. "Oh cool it, Kate," he said with a chuckle. "Just trying to be polite. You know how my mom is."

"Good point." She pulled out a stack of papers. "Let's see. Okay, Dean. May I see some legal ID please?"

Dean nodded as he dug out his wallet. Inside he had a driver's license with an Ohio address on it and his real name. It was at least as legal as any of the others. As he handed it over his cell phone went off. "Sorry," Dean mumbled as he pulled it out. He didn't recognize the number, so he forced it to roll over to voicemail.

"I'll have to speak with the judge. You can wait here," Kate told them with a smile.

* * *

"Really?" Sam's eyes bugged out. "You want me to go with you? What about all that crap about it not being safe to be around you?"

Dad rolled his eyes upward, as if he'd be getting any help from that direction. "Do you want to go or not?" he demanded.

"Yes. Definitely," Sam replied swiftly. "When do we leave?"

"First thing in the morning," Dad told him. "Dean asked us to stay the night. Said he had something to tell us."

"Yeah?" Sam grinned at his Dad. "Think they're finally caving on finding out if the baby's a boy or girl?"

"Nope." Dad stretched his arms straight up. "You do know Frank doesn't want a gender-specific baby? So pretty much no matter what, he's going to be disappointed."

"You're selling him short," Sam said before the filter between his brain and his mouth had time to kick in.

"Don't tell me you're starting to like Frank," Dad replied with a knowing grin.

Frank wasn't the only one with a big mouth around here. "Can I borrow the truck? I need to run an errand," Sam said with an outstretched hand.

"I hope this errand isn't related to peach pie," Dad said slapping the keys in his palm.

"Would I do that?" Sam asked innocently as he made for the door.

"You know you would!" Dad shouted as Sam allowed the front door to slam shut.

He was kind of banned from taking Frank's car without the keys. Dean had been nice enough about it, but the warning had been crystal clear. So Sam was reduced to begging for keys any time he wanted to go someplace. 'Borrowing' a car around town wasn't really an option since Dean freaking lived here. All big bro needed now was the dog he kept talking about, he already had the white picket fence and the rest of the accessories.

Sam headed straight for the diner, not really sure what he was going to say when he got there. It wasn't like he and Serene were dating. Not yet, anyway. Everyone kept telling him what a bitch she was but there was something about her, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. And that something was really intriguing. Sam loved a good mystery.

He sat at the counter and winked at Serene as he ordered a slice of her awesome pie.

"Hey yourself, Sam," she said as she delivered the pie and a cup of coffee he didn't ask for. "What's all this I hear about some transplant trying to interrupt a certain anniversary dinner?"

Sam grinned at her. "Have people been talking about me?"

Serene stopped in mid-wipe to glare at him. "You know I wasn't talking about you."

Sam shrugged as he sliced off a hunk of pie. "Oh, wow," he mumbled as it hit his tastebuds. "This pecan might be almost as good as your peach."

"Thanks." She beamed at him. "Trying out a new recipe. Might enter it in the next state fair." Serene swiped down the counter near him with her towel. "Last night?" She sounded casual, like she just wanted to catch up on the latest gossip.

"Frank was late," Sam told her between bites.

"And?" Serene prodded.

"And some gal started hitting on Dean." Her eyebrows shot up. Sam shrugged again. "He feels fat. Probably just liked the attention. Dean doesn't have great self-esteem." Sam paused in his eating. "If you repeat that, I'll deny it," he warned her, making dire threats with his eyes.

"Noted. Continue." Serene leaned on the counter closer to him.

"Well, after Frank finally showed up, and he was really, really late, Dean didn't get rid of her right away. That's why they ordered three dinners instead of two," he explained.

"I was wondering about that," she said shaking her head.

"Well, before he and Frank even started eating, I guess Dean decided he'd punished Frank enough and told Beth I was going to drive her home." Sam sipped his coffee. Nice and hot. Perfect. "She was hammered."

"And?" Serene prodded.

"And Beth went off on Dean, then on the whole bar. It was like she expected everyone to jump up and run Dean and Frank out of town," he explained.

"Excuse me?" A flicker of emotion crossed her face, flashed momentarily from her eyes. "Why?"

"She thought they were gay." Sam shrugged as he cut off another hunk of pie.

"And no small town could tolerate that, right?" That emotion flashed again. Serene's lips pressed into a thin line. "Did you take her home?"

Sam chuckled at the memory. "Kicking and screaming, but yeah, I did. Wound up with an escort from about half the bar, too."

"That tears it." Serene marched to the door. "Winchester!" she barked. He glanced back over his shoulder at her. Serene stood in the open door motioning angrily at him. "Move!"

Sam moved. God, he didn't remember the last time he moved that fast without something vicious and nasty breathing down his neck. He bolted out the door after Serene, still not knowing what the hell was going on. Once they were in the truck, he made the mistake of asking. She looked at him like he was the dumbest person on the planet before ordering him to drive to Beth's house.

Oh. That really didn't explain it, though, but Sam was afraid to ask. He just drove. Serene gave him a nasty look after he parked on the street beside Beth's rental house. Sam held up both hands in surrender.

"I'll wait here?" he asked tentatively.

"You'd better," she snapped, fire glinting in her eyes.

Sam was glad he stayed in the truck. He was pretty sure his hearing would have been damaged if he'd been inside that house. The neighbors started gathering in the front yard, drawn by the commotion. One ventured over by the truck.

"Hey, mister. Don't know you. Name's Vern." The man stuck a hand in Sam's open window.

"Sam Winchester," he replied as he shook the proffered hand.

"Winchester?" Vern asked, his eyes widening a little. "Not as in, Dean Winchester?"

"I'm Dean's little brother," Sam replied carefully.

Vern smiled, his hand tightening and his handshake growing stronger. "Nice ta meet ya, Sam. I hear congrats are in order. You tell Frank Vern sends his best, all right?"

"Sure. No problem," Sam assured the man, wondering what it would take to extricate his hand.

"So who's in there giving our new transplant what for?" Vern asked, finally dropping Sam's hand.

Sam stretched his hand out, relishing it not being crushed any longer. "Serene."

"Serene?" Vern glanced at the house and back at Sam. "What the hell for? Don't tell me Beth was mixed up in that mess at The Bar last night?"

Sam nodded. "Actually, Beth was the mess in the bar last night. Well, it wasn't her fault Frank was kind of late, but the rest of it..."

"Holy shit," Vern breathed out. He turned away from Sam's window. "Hey, Paul! Go grab your brother! I got a feeling the transplant's moving!"

Sam watched in astonished disbelief as most of the people who lived nearby gathered to pack Beth's things and load them into two waiting pickups. Sam considered offering Dad's truck to help, but most of the bed contained weapons and he didn't think that would go over too well. He decided to just help load the other trucks instead. Serene directed all of the packing while Beth sat outside watching, arms crossed over her chest and fuming.

"Take her to Carlin," Serene directed the others. "The hotel in the middle of town has cheap rates and is next door to that storage place. Unload everything there and come right back."

One of the men threw her a salute while grinning broadly. "Yes, ma'am! You heard her, boys, let's haul!"

Serene stood in the yard until the two pickups with a four car escort, mainly filled people who looked like they wanted to gawk more than help, were out of sight.

With flushed cheeks and long wisps of hair dangling in her face, Serene marched back to Sam. She jumped into the passenger side of the side and slammed the door. Hard. "Damn transplant," she muttered as Sam rushed to sit behind the wheel.

"I thought I was a transplant?" Sam asked before starting the truck.

"You're different," she snapped as she turned to glare at him. "You're not trying to drive off people who've lived here their whole lives, our family and friends." Serene made a strangled noise deep in her throat.

"Hey, hey," Sam slid a hand up her thigh. "Deep breath."

Serene breathed in deeply and held it. She looked at him, eyes widening as she waited.

Sam grinned at the sight, shocked and pleased she was actually listening to him. "Let it out slow."

It came out in a long whoosh.

"Better?" Sam asked, still grinning at her.

She nodded. "Oh, god, I blew off my shift, didn't I?" Serene buried her face in her hands.

Sam chuckled as he started up the truck. "Like they'd dare fire you. Hungry? Let's go to lunch, I'm starved."

"Really?" Serene asked him as her hands dropped away. "Most guys find a reason not to go out with me after something like this."

Sam glanced over to see if she was serious. "Then they're idiots. Italian? Or pizza?"

"Pizza. What do you mean, they're idiots?" Serene demanded.

"I mean you just ran off the twit who tried to embarrass my brother last night, like he wasn't already nervous enough about being seen in public. The least I owe you is lunch," Sam explained. "That was awesome, by the way."

"Really? I mean, you don't find me intimidating?" she asked in a voice too soft for her.

Sam laughed over that one. "Have you met Dean?" He turned briefly to grin at her. "Or my dad? No offense, but you could take lessons from my family in intimidation." He headed for the pizza place he liked. "Speaking of which, Dad and I just got a call about a job, so I'm going to be out of town for a couple of weeks."

"Oh." Not only was her voice still soft but it sounded small. Weird.

"So I was kind of wondering..." Sam didn't quite know how to ask, or if he should. She just might bite his head off for daring to ask. He pulled out his cell and held it out. "Can I get your number?"

Her fingers lingered on his hand as she took his cell. Serene's touch sent warm thrills up his spine. Sam looked away, pretending to concentrate on traffic. Shit. Not even Jess made him feel quite like this. What was it? Sam glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as she frowned at his phone. He wasn't going to offer to tell her how to do it, she would have to ask, and he had the distinct feeling Serene preferred it this way.

Sam pulled up at the pizza place and parked the truck. He sat quietly as Serene entered her information. She handed his phone back with a triumphant smile. "There you go. Now call it so I'll have yours." She pulled her cell out of her purse.

"Okay." Sam shrugged as he scrolled through his phone list. At first he couldn't find her, because there was not a new entry under 'S'. "What's your last name again?" he asked.

"Stephenson."

Sam shot her a confused look. "But there's nothing under S."

"Keep looking," she said with a broad smile.

Then he spotted it. He now had an entry under 'Peaches.' "Seriously?" Sam asked as he called it. Serene's cell went off in her hand. He waited for her to pick it up, just to be sure.

"Satisfied?" she asked as she answered it.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam laughed and grinned at her. "Why Peaches?"

She rolled her eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Are we going in or what?"

Sam's steps were light and brisk as he followed her inside.

* * *

Safe in the courthouse hallway by himself for a few minutes, Dean checked his voicemail. There was one new message.

"Dean, look, I-uh-I can't believe I'm doing this. My father was killed last month in a car wreck and right before, for about a week, he claimed he saw a black truck on the road behind him. Now I'm seeing a truck, but the cops can't find whoever it is. They claim there's no match for the truck and no one else has seen it. I don't we didn't exactly part on the best terms, but if you were telling me the truth, I think I need your help."

Dean saved the message before leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. He wasn't exactly in the position to go after anything. Besides, Frankie would kill him if he lit out to help Cassie, even if he wasn't pregnant. But Dad and Sam were getting ready to leave anyway...

Dad owed him. Time to collect.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27** – _road trip! Oh, and I totally changed where I was going with this due to a review. I know a good idea when I steal it!_

"Are you still upset over the driver's license thing?" Frankie asked, one warm hand running down his back.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I guess it's okay." He shot Frankie a hard look. "But if you tell Sam, I will kill you."

Frankie grinned as he moved closer, until his body pressed against Dean's back. "Yes, dear," he whispered.

Dean laughed as he shrugged Frankie off. "Well, you're in a good mood."

"Are you kidding?" Frankie said lightly as he held the door open for them. "Do you realize how many points this earns with Mom? I doubt Pop even cares, but man, suddenly I go from gay to not being completely homosexual and legally married with a baby on the way? I might be the favorite again."

Dean glared. "Your mom doesn't play favorites," he argued.

"Said the favorite," Frankie snapped back, but there was a grin on his face. "Do I get to tell Mom you're legally a girl now?"

Dean groaned as he led the way down the steps toward the car. "I'd rather not tell anybody."

"Okay," Frankie readily agreed.

Dean would like to wipe the contented, smug look off Frankie's face, but he didn't dare. It was a good thing, he kept telling himself. Besides, this gave him an alias he could use long-term in town. Now he had two pieces of paper which allowed him to be described as Dean Warren, his new temporary driver's license and the common law marriage certificate, even though the latter did list him as Winchester.

He wished he could just enjoy the day, but Dean was still worried about Cassie. She would never have called unless she was in dire need. She made that pretty clear when she kicked him out, screaming at the top of her lungs and standing in the middle of the street while he drove away. He still didn't get it, but that did not mean he wanted to see her killed by something when it could be prevented.

When they arrived at home, Frankie couldn't wait to tell Dad. Dad gave him a funny look before nodding to the backdoor. Dean followed his father outside.

"I didn't think gay marriages were legal here?" Dad asked before the door could close.

"They're not," Dean sighed.

One of Dad's eyebrows arched. "You're kidding."

Dean shrugged as he ran a hand over his stomach. "The judge said there was plenty of proof and ordered me to have my driver's license changed."

The disbelief dropped off Dad's face, replaced with a laugh and a gentle head shake. "Dude, never thought you'd go there. Not even for Frank."

Dean shrugged before he lowered himself into one of the chairs. "Have a seat," he ordered.

Dad frowned as he sat opposite Dean. "This isn't about Frank, is it?" Dad asked carefully.

"Nope. I got a call while we were at the courthouse. There's an old friend of mine I need you to check on. It sounds like she's having our kind of trouble," Dean told him. "You can go on the way to Norfolk."

Dad shook his head. "Sorry, Dean, but I've already wasted a day. We can look into it on the way back."

Dean glared. "It's on your way, Dad."

"Which means it's also on the way back," Dad replied evenly in the tone Dean knew better than to argue with.

Dean wet his lips, trying to come up with a convincing argument. "That might be too late. I'd like you to do it on the way."

"I will," Dad said, standing. "On the way back. I'm not letting the demon trail get too cold, son. Give me the number and I'll call. Sam can do some research on the way to Norfolk and I'll give your friend some tips. Good enough?"

Dean didn't answer. He couldn't. No, it wasn't good enough, but clearly it was the best he could hope for. "Maybe I should call Bobby," he said slowly. It was a veiled threat.

Dad shrugged. "Go ahead." He went back inside.

Dean sat on the back patio fuming until Frankie came out to check on him, however long that was. It was pretty clear he had only one alternative.

"Dean?" Frankie slid into the other chair. "Babe? Are you okay?"

"One favor," Dean mumbled. "I ask the man for one favor, and he puts me off." He sighed as he lifted his eyes to Frankie's clear blues. "I'm really, really sorry."

Frankie's eyes widened in alarm. "What for?" he asked slowly.

"I have to go out of town for a little while," he said softly. "I don't want to, but there's a job that needs to be done."

"Whoa, hold on," Frankie snapped, his voice harder than Dean had ever heard it. "I thought we agreed no hunting until after the baby's born?"

Dean sighed. "Dad won't do it, and there isn't anyone else I'd trust on this one."

"Why not?" Frankie demanded.

"It's an old friend," he hedged.

Those amazing blue eyes narrowed on him. "And her name would be...?"

Dean sighed deeply. Busted. "Cassie."

Frankie kept staring at him for a long moment, long enough to make Dean squirm uncomfortably. Finally he stood up. "Wait here."

Dean didn't like the tone of Frankie's voice, but he waited as ordered. Really, considering what he planned to do, it was the very least he could do for Frankie. About ten minutes later Frankie returned, the same determined look on his face.

"We can leave after John and Sam in the morning," he told Dean.

"We?" Dean looked at him curiously. "What do you mean, 'we'?"

Both of Frankie's eyebrows shot up. "You honestly think I'm going to let you go see that woman alone? Think again, Winchester."

Dean beamed at him, relief coursing through his system. "Jealous much?"

Frankie leaned down into his face, grabbing on to the armrests with both hands. "Better believe it." He gave Dean a deep and possessive kiss. "Besides, I want to be able to look after you."

"So I'm on a short leash," Dean quipped. "But what about the new job?"

Frankie shrugged as he straightened up. "Just got off the phone with them. I told my boss if he doesn't like the fact I'm taking the week off, he can replace me as the assist. You didn't like me having the job anyway."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you'd do all this, just for me."

Frankie's eyes got the wet look Dean hated to see. "Yeah. I know. I just keep hoping one of these days you will."

And Dean thought he was the weird one. Frankie just kept getting stranger by the day.

* * *

"You should have seen it," Sam gushed over dinner. "Serene literally just packed her up and sent her out of town." He laughed loudly.

Dean grinned at his little brother. He would have preferred Sam like anyone except Serene, but he had not seen his little brother this happy in years. Probably not since Sam was eleven or twelve.

"So are you all packed?" Dean asked casually. "Planning an early start?"

"Yeah," Dad answered. Dean had not been able to look his father in the eye since their conversation earlier, when he blew Dean off. "I don't suppose you changed your mind about giving me that number?"

Dean shook his head. The last thing he needed was for Dad to call Cassie while he was there. "I found somebody else to take care of it."

"Take care of what?" Sam asked, his head twisting back and forth between them.

"An old friend called me with a problem I thought you and Dad could look into on the way to Norfolk," Dean explained. "But apparently you're in too much of a hurry."

"Uh, well..." Sam swallowed hard, his voice faltering. "We can't let the trail get too cold, Dean. Why can't we look into it on the way back?" Sam gave Dad the wide eyes. _Please?_

"I offered," Dad put in instantly with a quick frown at Sam. _Duh!_

Dean shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's taken care of."

Frankie didn't say anything, just kept his head down and concentrated on eating.

"So, uh, why'd you want us to stay the night, Dean? Do you have some news?" Sam asked. Kid was pretty smooth at changing from uncomfortable subjects these days. That had always been more of Dean's specialty.

Dean picked at the food on his plate. The fact he had to lie to his family killed his appetite. He caught Frankie staring at him. Dean shrugged, giving Frankie permission to tell his little brother.

"It's official," Frankie told Sam proudly. "Dean and I have now been legally married for three years."

Sam's face registered his shock. "How?"

"Commonlaw marriage," Frankie explained. Then Sam and Frankie got into a detailed discussion of how that worked while Dean concentrated on his uneaten food. Dean caught Dad staring at him once or twice during dinner, but the man didn't say anything. Good thing, because Dean would have continued to lie.

* * *

"Take care of yourself, Dean," Dad said as he hugged tight. "I mean it," he whispered in Dean's ear.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied. He couldn't help if his eyes were accusing, telling his father that this stupid idea was his dad's fault. Now he knew Dad had it figured out, but had not told Sam. Whatever. It wasn't like Dean would own up to either one of them, they were both only thinking of themselves and the damn demon.

The instant the truck was out of sight, Frankie started loading the Impala while Dean checked out his weapons in the back. When Frankie appeared holding a sack of groceries, Dean almost laughed at him.

"What's that for?" Dean asked, highly amused.

Frankie shrugged. "Always brought you luck before," he answered. "I figure we need all the luck we can get on this one."

"Just don't trip over your feet," Dean advised, opening the driver's side door, "and we'll be fine."

"Ha. Ha." Frankie said with a glare as he slid into the passenger seat. "You're not driving more than an hour or two at a time, right?"

Dean sighed as he started up his baby. "Yes, dear." He shook his head. "Man, married one day and already it's nag, nag, nag." He pulled out on to the street.

"And on our honeymoon, we're off to see your ex-girlfriend," Frankie said and Dean could feel those eyes on him. "Gee, it's a dream come true."

Dean wished he had a free hand to slug Frankie in the shoulder. "I'm gonna have to owe you for that one," he promised.

Frankie chuckled. "Yeah? Think you can take me with just one arm?"

"Believe it," Dean promised.

Frankie leaned in closer until he rested on Dean's good shoulder. "So where are you gonna take me?"

Dean shrugged him off, laughing. "Where'd we go on our first date? Sex beach?"

"Oh, I love it when you talk like that," Frankie practically purred.

Dean rolled his eyes. They didn't talk too much, until they had been on the open highway for a while. He felt a pressure to speak again, to express how much this stupid, moronic trip really meant to him.

"You know, I do want to, uh, thank you. For doing this. For letting me do this." The words were difficult to force out, as if they had a mind of their own and wanted to lodge in his throat. "I really thought the whole thing would piss you off."

Frankie shrugged as he stretched out in the seat, a lot like Sam usually did. "Well, it was either get mad and have you leave by yourself, pissed off, or agree and get to go along. It was a no-brainer."

Dean shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. "So you really think I would've gone anyway, huh?"

"Nope." Frankie stared at him. "I know you would have. So. Anything about Cassie I should know that I don't?"

"She's lousy in bed. Absolutely no imagination," Dean said with a grin.

Frankie's laugh filled the car and he gave Dean a gentle shove in the shoulder. "Asshole."

Dean glanced over with a sparkle in his eye. "Just kind of lays there," he said, his grin broadening.

"Knock it off," Frankie told him, but he was chuckling.

"Oh, come on, baby. You know nobody can compare to you," Dean promised, and he meant it.

Frankie let out a quick growl followed by a fast kiss on Dean's cheek. "I love it when you call me that."

"I know, baby," Dean wished he had the use of both arms so he could steer with one hand and grab Frankie's thigh with the other. Then Frankie shifted in the seat, sliding closer to him. Their thighs pressed together and Frankie's arm rested gently over his shoulders. That boulder of a head pressed down on Dean's good shoulder and he knew, without a doubt, why he would always keep coming back to Frankie. Frankie was just awesome.

* * *

Frank was not about to voice just how nervous meeting the infamous Cassie made him. She was the reason he'd had to work so hard to get Dean to tell him about the job. Yeah, okay, so it sounded a little crazy, but that was no reason to dump him. Didn't the woman have eyes? Maybe she just didn't have good taste. Or could she be mentally deficient?

Once they hit the town, it didn't take long to arrive at their destination. This place might be even smaller than Pearland. He followed behind Dean into the local newspaper office.

"Dean!" A petite woman with skin the color of creamed coffee ran over to embrace Dean.

Shit.

Frank ground his teeth together and repeated over and over in his mind: trust Dean, trust Dean, trust Dean.

The woman pulled away and gave Dean a puzzled once-over. "Have you gained some weight?"

A shattered look crossed Dean's face. They might not need to save her from anything after all, because Frank was going to kill her.

"Never mind," she said with a light laugh, "you look great." Her soft dark eyes turned on him. "Who is this? The brother I heard so much about?"

"Uh, no." Dean stepped closer to him. "This is Frank. My partner. Frank, Cassie."

"Oh, well." She held out a hand and flashed a smile. Cassie had a firm handshake for a woman. "Nice to meet you Frank. So you two, uh, _work_ together?" He heard the emphasis on work when she motioned between them, as if she still didn't believe what Dean did.

"No." Their answers blended as one and Frank could have burst with pride over it. As it was, he was having a hard time not throwing his arms around Dean and just squishing him. When Dean shot him a strong look of warning, he could see Dean knew him just as well as he suspected. Frank offered a half-hearted grin of apology for even thinking about what he wanted to do. Then Dean chuckled and shook his head.

"So, can you talk now?" Dean asked Cassie and Frank could see the tension easing out of Dean's shoulders.

"Uh, sure." Her eyes darted between them. Frank still couldn't see the attraction. "Over here." Cassie motioned to a desk on the far side of the room. "What happened to your arm?"

"Actually it's the shoulder," he said. "Got a bat broken over it."

Cassie glanced around before lowering her voice and asking, "Ghosts use baseball bats?"

Dean glared for a moment. "You do have some research for us?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Cassie pulled out a file. "This is everything I could find related to the black truck. I wish it was more."

"At least we have a place to start," Dean told her, flipping open the file. He sifted through the papers one-handed for a few minutes, pausing occasionally to read, then moving on to another page. Frank stood by, trying to appear calm and patient. Cassie kept giving him odd looks.

"There is a public library, right?" Dean finally asked as he shoved the papers back inside the file folder.

"Sure. Two blocks north and one west. Why?" Now she looked eager, the bitch. "Did you find something?"

Dean shrugged with his good shoulder. "Don't know yet. We need to check a few things out. How can we get in touch with you?"

"Oh, right." Cassie grabbed a pad of paper to scribble on it. "Here. I'm staying with my mom. That's where I'll be after work tonight."

Dean looked thoughtful. "Maybe you should call me when you're ready to head home. We can follow you, make sure nothing else does."

Relief spread over her face. "Okay, great. I'll do that. Dean, thanks for coming."

Frank accepted the file pushed at him, tucking the misarranged pages back in. He followed Dean outside and back into the Impala.

"This is pretty cool," he said. Dean gave him a strange look. "I'm getting to watch you work. Dean Winchester in action." Frank beamed at him.

Dean scoffed loudly. "This is the part Sam loves. Research. You're going to be pretty bored."

"Doubt it." The library building was small, but at least they had one. "I don't get it. What did you see in her?"

"Really?" Dean glanced over as he threw the car in park. "Dude, she's hot."

Frank considered that for a moment. "Nope, don't see it."

Dean laughed at him. "And you call yourself bi."

Frank grinned back. "Please don't tell my mother."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 - **_This chapter - John comes to a sickening realization, and Dean and Frankie make another return to the gutter!! _

John sat on the edge of the bed in the motel room. Something wasn't quite right. It had been nagging him since leaving Dean and Frank's this morning, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Whatever it was, John was sure it wasn't good.

"Dad?" Sam sat facing him from the other bed. "What's up? You've been kind of...brooding...since we left. Is it about the job Dean wanted us to do?"

John didn't answer right away. "Brooding?"

"Yeah. Sullen. Silent. Brooding," Sam replied as if he were quoting the dictionary or a thesaurus. "So what is it?"

"I'm not sure," John replied slowly. He locked eyes with his son. "You didn't notice anything odd with Dean before we left, did you?"

Sam shrugged and spread his hands wide. "No, not really. I mean, he seemed a little upset about us not checking on his _friend_ on our way to Norfolk, but not really anything else."

"Why'd you say it like that?" John asked. "Friend. Your brother can't have friends?"

Sam snorted as he rolled his eyes. "It's not that he can't, he doesn't, Dad. Period. This so-called friend is obviously some gal he slept with who called him."

"But Dean never went around blabbing what we do to his one-night-stands," John protested. "So it couldn't be... Damn it."

"What?" Sam's entire body tensed.

John ran both hands through his hair. "Why didn't I see it before? I'll bet it's that girl. Remember the one I told you about, who broke his heart?"

Sam shook his head, his confusion flowing over his face. "That doesn't make sense. Why would Dean want us to check on her? He has Frank now."

John stared at his youngest for a full minute, until Sam squirmed under the scrutiny. "You've known Dean your entire life," he said slowly, "and you still don't know him at all, do you?"

Sam's cheeks reddened. Not a good sign. "What the hell is that supposed to mean!"

"It means," John was careful to keep his voice even and steady, "that once Dean decides he loves someone, nothing that person can do will change how he feels. I'm sure he loves Frank more, at least I hope so, but if she were in trouble he'd move heaven and hell to help her. I'm calling Bobby."

Sam just blinked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. "Why Bobby?"

"Because," the sound of ringing came through his cell, "when I wouldn't agree to stop on our way out, Dean threatened to call him. There aren't many people he would trust with something like this. Why don't you call your brother, see what he's up to?"

Sam nodded as he reached for his cell.

"John?" Bobby's gruff voice blared through. "What the hell do ya want now?"

"Did Dean call you yesterday?" John demanded before Bobby could start on one of his rants.

"Nope. Haven't heard from the kid in almost six months, thanks to you," Bobby snapped.

"Damn it." John hung up on one of his oldest friends. "Sam? Any luck?"

Sam held up a hand. "Hey, Dean. What's going on?" He listened with a growing frown. "Uh, well, we stopped for the night so I thought I'd call." Sam's frown deepened. "We can't drive and sleep at the same time, Dean. Be reason-... But I just wanted... Is Frank there?"

Sam's jaw clenched and he yanked the phone away from his ear to glare at it. "That bastard hung up on me." There was a hint of disbelief in his voice too.

"Serene," John said, the idea spilling out as it came to him. "Have her run by the house and check on them."

Sam's look of disbelief focused on him now. "Oh, come on. Not even Dean is that stupid."

"Dean isn't stupid at all," John snapped, his anger and worry amping up. "Make the call."

"Uh, sure. I'll just, um, step outside." Sam walked swiftly out the door. It kind of reminded John of those mysterious phone calls Dean used to make every Sunday night. Like he wasn't supposed to notice.

--

John reread the same page for the tenth time. Frustrated, he slammed his book closed. "Why hasn't she called yet?" he demanded.

Sam glanced over at the clock. "Serene might be working the late shift. Give it a little time, Dad. I'm sure they didn't go anywhere. Dean said it was handled."

John couldn't believe how naïve Sam could be when it came to Dean. "Which typically means he's handling it himself," he pointed out.

Sam gave him a disgusted look, like John was the biggest moron on the face of the planet. Well, why would Sam have changed his opinion about that in the last four years? Why did he think asking Sam to come with him was a good idea?

Finally, finally, finally, Sam's cell went off. John listened anxiously to the short, one-sided conversation. Then Sam promised to call tomorrow and hung up.

"Well?" John demanded.

"Just Steve was there when she got to the house. He said Dean and Frank went off for the weekend, to some B-n-B. I guess they've been there before." Sam appeared puzzled. "Funny he didn't mention it. You'd think they would be excited about something like that."

That strange feeling, the one he hadn't been able to shake, John knew what it was now. Dread.

"They went," John said softly. "I'm going to kill both of them."

"Dad," Sam had his annoying 'I'm always right but you never listen to me' tone going, "they just took off for a romantic get-away. That's all." He frowned. "And a whole lot more than I want to think about."

John stared at his younger child. "I don't suppose he mentioned where she lived to you?"

Sam shook his head. "All I heard him say was that you didn't want to stop, even though it's on our way."

"No help. By Dean's standards, if it's within a state or two, it's on the way." He groaned, dropping back on the bed. "I should've just lied and told him we'd stop on the way there." John sighed loudly as he stared at the ceiling. "Try your brother again, tell him I changed my mind and we'll go check it out. See if he'll give you an address. If he won't, it's because he's already there."

"Dad, he's not-"

"Do it, Sam!" John barked.

Sam huffed loudly as he picked the number out of his cell. John watched as Sam waited for Dean to answer.

"I didn't call to get into an argument, Dean. Dad changed his mind, we can stop on the way. What's the address?" Sam's face registered his confusion. "But I thought you wanted us to handle it? ... Oh, okay." He gave John a searching look. "Who did you call? Bobby?" Now a frown creased his face. "Then who? Maybe we can help. ... Dean? Dean, are you there?" Sam yanked the phone away from his ear. "He hung up on me again!"

"Well, if he won't tell us where he is, we can't help," John reasoned. "I guess we'll just have to try again after we check out Norfolk."

Sam's eyes widened and he looked horrified. "You can't be serious!"

John shrugged at his son. "What would you have me do, Sam? Sit around here and pester Dean by phone until he tells us? You really think that would work?" he demanded. He stood to put the few things he had out back in his bag.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded. "Are we leaving?"

John shot a hard look over his shoulder. "Can you sleep?"

Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "No."

"Then we're wasting time. Might as well be on the road," John replied. "The quicker we finish Norfolk, the quicker we can head back and maybe find Dean and Frank."

"Frank's with him?" Sam asked. "How can you be sure?"

John hefted the bag over his shoulder. "One, they're both missing. Two, Dean's pregnant. Three, Frank is a protective son of a bitch." He stared Sam in the eye. "And four, I refuse to think about Dean trying to hunt by himself right now."

He made his way to the door. John paused with one hand on the doorknob. "You coming or what?"

Without waiting for an answer, John headed out to the truck. He stowed his gear before climbing in behind the wheel. By the time Sam came out, John had the engine fired up. Sam headed straight for the truck. John had considered checking out, maybe asking for their money back, but it wasn't worth the hassle. He had used a bogus credit card anyway.

If they only stopped for gas, they should be able to make Norfolk by lunch tomorrow. Half a day to a day to check the area for the demon's work, then head straight back. Maybe by then they would be able to convince Dean to tell them where he was. He'd had a feeling he would regret asking Sam to come with him, but honestly this possibility had never occurred to him.

--

Dean smiled broadly at Cassie's mother. "Yes, ma'am. I do have some experience in this type of thing."

She glanced around the comfortable living room nervously, wringing her hands. Cassie's mom knew something about this, Dean was sure, but she wasn't going to give it up easily. It would either take a clear attempt on Cassie or someone else close to her dying to push her to talk. Dean had hoped to charm it out of her, but it wasn't working. And he was freaking tired.

"Well, we should find a room," Dean told them, nudging Frankie. Frankie jumped up to offer a helping hand. Dean took it, allowing the big guy to pull him up. "We drove straight through to get here."

"Oh, dear," her mother said, wringing her hands harder. "I just don't feel right about this. Why don't you stay here? We have a guest room." She glanced over at Cassie. "You'll have to share a bathroom with me. Is that all right?"

"Sure, Mom," Cassie said quickly. "Does the bed need sheets?"

"No, it should be fine," she said quickly, then frowned again. "Oh, dear. It only has one bed." She glanced around again, her gaze settling on the couch.

"That's fine," Dean tried to cut off that chain of thought. "Show me the way." He motioned to Cassie.

Cassie led them to the bedroom. "I'm next door," she explained, "if you need anything."

Dean's eyes sought out Frankie's. "I'll get the bags," Frankie said before he hurried away. Ah, what a great guy.

"Thanks for letting us stay." Dean cleared his throat as he leaned against the doorframe. "Your mom seems like a great lady."

Cassie nodded, copying his stance on the other side of the door. "She is." She avoided his gaze for a few moments before finally looking at him. "I thought you made it up. That you were trying to break up, so I broke up with you first."

"I wasn't," Dean said in a low voice. "That wasn't what I wanted."

"Me either," she told him. For a moment she looked like she might throw her arms around his neck and kiss him, but Dean stiffened and pulled back until the door jamb cut into his bad shoulder. The whole Beth incident hadn't totally blown over yet, he didn't need that on top of it.

"Frank, huh?" she asked, glancing towards the front door. "Seems kind of quiet."

"He's not." Dean found himself grinning. "He just doesn't know what to make of this."

"Of what?" Cassie demanded.

"Me seeing you again," Dean admitted. "I really had a thing for you."

"Had." Cassie repeated. "Guess we'll never know now, huh?"

He met her soft gaze. "Could we have?" he asked quietly. Part of him wanted to know. The truth. "Honestly?"

Cassie looked away without answering him, but her actions said it all. No. They stood there, wrapped in awkward silence, until Frankie finally came back. The slightly disturbed expression, followed by relief when he saw them not speaking, shouldn't have made Dean feel so much better. At least, that was what he told himself. But it did.

"Night," Dean told her, sounding stiff even to himself.

"Night," she said softly.

He did not miss the way her eyes followed Frankie into the room, or the fact she lingered a moment in the hall while he went inside. Hot damn, he still had it!

"Well?" Frankie asked softly when they were safely behind closed doors. "Feel better?"

He actually looked like he was dreading Dean's answer. Dean smiled as he used his good hand to tug Frankie's head down to give the man a world class kiss. "Much," he said.

Frankie held him in a lingering hug before saying, "I'll bet you're tired. Should we just hit the sack?"

Which gave Dean an absolutely wonderful idea. He covered it by yawning widely and stretching his good arm out. "Yeah, sounds good. Why don't you use the bathroom first?"

Frankie undid the straps on his sling before heading through the door in the back wall of the bedroom. Arm freed, Dean puttered around the room deciding how best to put his devious plan into action. It wasn't fair to Frankie, or even Cassie for that matter, but right now Dean didn't really care. Maybe he couldn't make himself stop feeling for Cassie, but he could get just a little bit of revenge for the fact she didn't feel anything for him. In the long run, he figured Frankie wouldn't really mind anyway.

Frankie came out in his underwear and a shirt which was pulled skin-tight, showing off every muscle he had. Dean stared, his brain shifting into neutral at the sight. Frankie's mouth was moving, but Dean couldn't understand anything coming out of it. All he could see were those well defined muscles, that dark curly hair, and the growing bulge below. Then Frankie was kissing him and Dean leaned into it, trying to press his body against Frankie's taller form.

"Do I have your attention now?" Frankie asked pulling away, his blue eyes laughing at Dean. "I said you can use the bathroom now."

"Bathroom?" Dean blinked up at him, allowing his brain a moment to process the word. "Bathroom. Thanks."

Frankie chuckled at him and planted a swift kiss to his temple before moving out of the way. Dean tossed his overshirt at the dresser as he passed, heading for the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, he quickly made himself ready for bed, and the evening he had in mind. He tried not to look at himself in the mirror, it only made him conscious of exactly how big he was getting, not that he could do anything about it. Or that he wanted to.

Wearing one of Frankie's t-shirts and nothing else, Dean checked the other door to the bathroom, the one which led to Cassie's room. As he suspected, it was locked. With a wicked grin, Dean twisted the latch to leave it unlocked. He also left the door leading into their room open a crack, to make sure she could hear them. Payback was a bitch.

Only the bedside lamp was on when he climbed into bed next to Frankie. It was smaller than they were used to, but that just meant they could sleep closer together. When it was time for sleeping, that is. Dean had other plans.

Lying on his good side, Frankie's taller body wrapped around him. Dean pressed back until he could feel Frankie's interest hard against his ass. With the light still on, Dean rubbed against Frankie's hard cock, trying to get him interested enough to ignore the fact they were in a stranger's house.

"Dean," Frankie said in a strangled voice. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he replied innocently as he rubbed again. "Why? Would you like me to do something?"

His left arm still free, Dean was able to reach behind him and slide his hand between their bodies. He slid into Frankie's underwear to stroke the hard, hot source of much pleasure.

"Too many clothes on, baby," Dean said, not bothering to whisper as Frankie started thrusting into his hand. "Strip."

He half-expected a show then, but Frankie must have been too worked up already. Instead the big guy yanked off his shirt and sent it to the floor. Next he shimmied out of his underwear, which were half off anyway. Dean couldn't keep track of where those went because Frankie was in his face, dominating his mouth. Tongues battled and caressed in a known dance of lust, need and love. He was on his back, Frankie above him, lost in each other. Dean felt the hard hot length slide inside him. He lifted his legs over Frankie's back, locking his ankles together. Their normal pace didn't work now, with his huge stomach, but with a little patience they found a new pace. Maybe it was better. Frankie rolled his hips and thanks to the new larger belly, every hip roll ground against his dick and soon Dean was moaning at the sensations.

When he was really worked up, Frankie rolled them over to let Dean be on top. He couldn't think or rationalize now, simply move and react and allow these primal urges to guide him. At one point he wanted to bounce them so hard they would crack the sheetrock of the wall, but the next moment Dean wanted slow and deep, to feel everything Frankie had to offer. He went for slow and deep and never looked back. Sinking down on Frankie felt so damn good, he couldn't think of anything else. Brain turned to mush, eyes only for Frankie's amazing blue orbs, Dean pumped up and down slowly as the familiar feeling welled up, overpowering everything else. He tried to keep it slow, but he couldn't. Pumping harder and faster, the orgasm overtook him, making him moan or cry out with each downward thrust.

Then Frankie was back on top and Dean didn't remember it happening, wasn't sure how or why, only what was. Frankie slammed into him and Dean gasped as another wave of pleasure shot through him, forcing his back to arch and all of his muscles to tighten. Another quick, hard thrust and he did it again.

Frankie was mumbling into his ear, nonsensical words which both soothed and excited. Then it was Frankie's turn. He heard the grunt, knew what it meant. Dean tightened his legs around Frankie, ground against him as hard as he could while they rode out Frankie's orgasm together.

Not moving but bodies still locked together, Frankie's eyes opened, his unbelievable blue eyes staring down at Dean while he panted, trying to catch his breath. "Mine," he breathed out.

Dean grinned broadly at him. "Yours," he agreed.

Frankie nodded, pulling out. He collapsed next to Dean on the bed, wrapping his longer body around Dean possessively. "Should put the sling on," he mumbled against the back of Dean's skull.

"Screw the sling," Dean replied as he leaned into Frankie's warmth.

"Nope," Frankie replied, "not as much fun."

Dean chuckled, grabbing the arm hanging over his side and pulling it in closer. Frankie's answering chuckle vibrated through his back. He glanced over at the bathroom door. It stood ajar, much wider than the small crack he had left it. With a knowing smile and a feeling of satisfaction, Dean allowed the lure of sleep to pull down his eyelids and whisk him away.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29** – _and a new chapter! I really debated on whether or not to put Cassie's pov in this chapter when she heard certain 'sounds' from next door. I finally decided not to, it just didn't seem to fit with the story. Nothing else would be from her pov, after all. However, if you pester me, I might post it separately, like a missing scene._

Dean couldn't help it, he was in a good mood this morning. He knew Cassie saw them last night, he'd even found the bathroom door to her room open early this morning. Now, the question was how intently she had watched. If he read her right nearly five years ago, she wasn't _just_ watching.

Frankie was so close as they headed through the house to the kitchen for breakfast if he'd been running a fever Dean was sure he would be able to tell. Frankie nearly had a fit when he pulled out the blue and green plaid shirt to wear, but since he didn't bring much else, he got away with it.

"Good morning!" Cassie's mother greeted them. "I wasn't sure what to make. Scrambled eggs okay?"

"No!"

She jumped at their combined voices. Frankie's cheeks reddened. "Uh, I'm allergic," he said quickly. "Even the smell is enough to make me sick."

"Oh." She covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh, dear. Really? I've never heard of a food allergy that bad."

"Oh, yeah, it's horrible," Dean put in. "He can't go anyplace that serves breakfast." He thanked Frankie with his eyes and was rewarded with a bright grin. God, Frankie was awesome.

Then someone else slid into a chair at the table across from them. Dean glanced over to see Cassie not looking at them.

"Morning, Mom," she said, her voice slightly muffled from looking down.

"Sleep well?" Dean asked as her mom handed him a cup of coffee.

"Yes, dear," her mother said, grabbing Cassie by the chin to force her face up. "You look tired. Don't tell me you were up all night?"

Dean almost choked on his first sip of coffee. He watched as her cheeks highlighted with a rosey hue high on the cheekbones. Her eyes skipped over him and Frankie and the rosey hue deepened. Yep. She was up last night. Dean grinned as Frankie gave him a really confused look. Dean shook his head. Oh, no. No way was he owning up to this one. But knowing Frankie, the big guy probably wouldn't mind anyway. Okay, Dean might tell him later. He threw Frankie a wink as he took a gulp of her mother's store-brand coffee. Frankie's shoulders relaxed as he sniffed his coffee. Frankie made some pleasant small talk as he avoided drinking the lousy coffee.

* * *

In Sam's humble opinion, Norfolk was a bust. They didn't learn anything new and Dean and Frank were still missing. Dean wasn't even answering his cell now. Sam wanted to kick himself for never asking Frank for his cell number. He was pretty sure Frank would pick up.

"I don't supposed Serene's heard anything?" Dad asked.

They hadn't slept more than a few hours each while the other drove, to Norfolk and now on the way back.

"She would call," Sam replied, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt. "What I don't understand is why Dean won't answer."

Dad sighed as his grip tightened on the steering wheel, evidenced by his white knuckles. "He's mad at me." Dad cleared his throat and Sam had the feeling it was confession time. "Dean rarely, if ever, asks for a favor. He asked me to do this, on the way. I wouldn't."

"But if we'd waited any longer we probably wouldn't have found anything but that burned house," Sam argued. "Dean knows how important this is."

"To us," Dad snapped. "Not to him."

Sam had to stare in disbelief over that. "But it killed Mom. Of course it's important to him."

Dad's head shook swiftly. "Living people mean more. Think about it, Sammy. When has Dean ever put revenge first? Ever?"

Being called Sammy rankled, but Dad's comment penetrated deeper. Had he ever seen Dean thirst for revenge? The closest he could think of was when Frank had been taken, but even then Dean had knocked the guy out in favor of getting Frank to the hospital. Granted, he was pretty sure Dean had broken the guy's jaw, but Sam wasn't sure that counted in the 'revenge' category and it didn't come first. Frank had. The living.

"Crap," Sam breathed out. "So when I told him we could do it on the way back, I was taking your side against him." He threw his head back and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Shit."

"Deep shit," Dad added. When Sam glanced over, his father looked more worried than he had seen Dad in a long time. "It might be why he keeps hanging up on you."

"Why haven't you tried calling?" Sam demanded.

A sad, deep chuckle came from Dad. "Because he wouldn't have answered at all. Payback's a bitch, Sam. Especially when it comes from Dean."

* * *

Frank stared over the nasty wet truck fender, covered with years of slime and pond scum, at Dean. "You what?"

Dean grinned at him. "I unlocked the bathroom door."

"You mean...so she could..." Frankie couldn't quite finish his question.

Dean's eyes, so wonderfully deep and mysterious, sparkled with mischief. "And she did. Didn't you notice how she couldn't look at either one of us this morning? And her face turned all red?"

"It did?" No, Frank had not noticed. Any of it. "But why? Why would you do that?"

Dean beamed. "Pay-back is a cold blooded bitch, Frankie." He poured more accelerant over the nasty truck with one hand. "I really think I should take this stupid thing off. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Frank demanded. "And how was that pay-back?"

"In case it shows up while we're trying to torch it," Dean replied as he walked around the truck. He motioned to his arm and Frank gave in, undoing the straps. Dean could take it off himself, but he tended to just yank it off and then the next time it was put on all the straps would have to be readjusted and Dean wasn't long on patience. Frank would take the small favors when he could get them.

"You still haven't told me why that was pay-back," Frank prompted.

Dean chuckled as he tossed the sling into the back seat of the Impala. "Are you kidding? Isn't it obvious?" He grabbed a bag of salt propped against the truck to pour inside the truck's cab. "I got you, so I win. Oh, and I'm pretty sure she wasn't _just_ watching either."

"Oh, man," Frank moaned, "don't tell me any more. I don't want to know."

"What can I say, Frankie?" he asked lightly. "I attract the kinkiest people." Dean tossed the empty bag of salt inside too. "Dude, get in the car. I'm ready to light it up." He glared over his shoulder as he held up a package of motel matches. "Passenger side."

Frank sighed as he sat in the passenger side of Dean's car. The instant flames sprung up in the cab, he noticed lights in the rearview mirror. As he watched the lights, he realized that they were headlights. Then he heard the roar of a large motor.

"Dean!"

The driver's door slammed hard enough to rock the car, the engine firing up almost instantly. "I was afraid of that," Dean mumbled as he slammed it into drive.

"Afraid of what?" Frank demanded as they left the truck-b-que in a cloud of smoke and dust. "You don't think it worked?"

"Oh, it worked all right," Dean snapped as the Impala slid onto another dirt road, "now it's really mad."

Frank's head spun between the road in front of them, Dean driving with an intense look on his face, and the black phantom truck chasing them. "So what do we do?"

"Not stop," Dean relied, jerking the wheel hard to the left and sending them on to yet another road. Didn't these people believe in pavement? What did they do when it rained? Stay home?

"Not stop?" Frank demanded. "That's your plan?"

Dean glanced over briefly with a sheepish look. "Unless you have a better one?"

Panicked, he scrambled to pull out his cell. Frank scrolled through the numbers, but he did not see the one he wanted. "Shit! Why don't I have Sam's number? I can't believe I never got it from him."

"Then call Dad," Dean said as the car fishtailed with his evasive maneuvers again, "they're together."

"Together. That's right." Frank picked John out of his list. "They're together. Your dad will just, you know, willingly hand over the phone. Right. This is as good a plan as not stopping."

Dean chuckled as the Impala swung completely around to head back the way they'd just come. Frank couldn't tell where the truck was now. "Dad keeps saying we're a pair."

John's phone was ringing. "Pair of what?"

"Frank? Is that you?" John demanded. "Sam's been trying to call Dean, but he quit answering his phone. Now tell me where the hell you are!"

"Right now?" Frank asked. "On a dark country road being chased by a ghost truck. Can I talk to Sam?"

"Ghost truck!" John thundered. "No, you can't talk to Sam. What's the problem?"

"I told you!" Frank shouted, desperately trying not to be thrown all over the interior of the car. "It's chasing us!"

"And it's pissed!" Dean shouted at the phone.

"You're being chased by a pissed off ghost truck?" John asked. "Well, at least it's original."

"So you don't have any ideas?" Frank asked, his last hope faltering as a tight pressure began in the center of his chest.

"Who's driving?" John demanded.

"Dean," Frank replied as the pain grew more intense and the truck looked like it was closing in on them.

"I don't suppose you two idiots have a map of the area?" John asked.

Frank reached over in to the back seat to grab the local map, the first thing Dean had picked up. "Couple of idiots," he informed Dean.

Dean nodded grimly. "What I figured," he mumbled as Frank sat back down, map in hand.

"Got it. What am I looking for?" he asked, trying to figure out where they were. One of Dean's hands slapped the map, presumably in the area they were in.

"Any place that might be considered holy ground," John told him. "Like an old cemetary, church grounds, any area that might have been consecrated for what ever reason. Unless there's a salt dome nearby?"

"Like we'd be that lucky," Frank grumbled. He scanned the map looking for anything that might fit John's description. Dropping the phone from his ear, Frank turned to Dean. "Remember the story about burning the church? Wasn't that right around here?"

"Think so," Dean replied in a tight voice.

"Yeah, me too," Frank said as his eyes dropped to the map again. "Next right," he ordered and held on as Dean swung the car around. The painful tightness in his chest was still there, demanding his attention, but that stupid truck was closing ground.

"Where?" Dean demanded.

Frank forced his gaze back to the map. "Uh, two roads...one more road and then another right."

"What's going on?" John's voice demanded from his left hand.

It took him a moment to process that Dean's dad was still on the phone. "I'll call you back," he said absently as he closed the cell phone.

"Dude! Did you just hang up on Dad?" Dean demanded with wide eyes, like they weren't dealing with enough trouble at the moment.

"I'll call him back later," Frank snapped. "Just worry about driving." He looked out the back window. How could it go so fast? Did ghost trucks have automatic after-life options like nitrous? "It's gaining on us."

"Uh-huh. What am I lookin' for, Frank?"

Crap, he was losing it. Wrong time to lose focus. Worst time to lose focus. Had he lost focus like this before?

"Frank!"

"Map," he mumbled as he forced himself to read the map. Where was that church? Jesus, if that pain in his chest would just go away, he might be able to concentrate. Oh, there it was. "Right here!" he shouted as they nearly passed the entrance. The black truck was right on their ass.

Dean was really, really good. Maybe he could have been a racecar driver, in another life. They skidded around with a broad fishtail before zipping through the open gate in the fence. As the car skidded to a stop, Frank reached over. He grabbed Dean by the neck and forced him down to the seat. The headlights from the truck made the interior of the car seem like daylight. Covering Dean's body with his own, Frank held on in sheer desperation. The roar of the truck grew, crescendoing with the pain in his chest and filling his ears.

Then it was gone. It was dark in the car again. So why couldn't he catch his breath?

"Frankie?" Dean mumbled from under him. "Can't breathe, dude."

Frank pushed up, off of Dean. "Sorry." He rolled down the window. It _was_ hard to breathe in here. "Better?"

"Yeah." Dean sat up. Frank couldn't look at him right now, it was all too much. "Hey," Dean grabbed him by the bicept, "what's wrong? You feeling okay?"

He wanted to say yes, everything was fine, but he couldn't. Then Frank remembered this pain, realized that it was familiar, that he knew what was happening to him. "Shit," he hissed between clenched teeth. He looked Dean in the eye. "You do know where the hospital is?"

All the color drained from Dean's face as his eyes widened and a rare expression set in. Panic. "Shit!" But he didn't reach for the steering wheel, he opened the glove compartment. Frank wanted to ask what the hell he was doing, but there was something Frank had learned in the past few years: trust Dean.

"Here," Dean opened a white bottle and poured some round pills in his palm, "take those. Hurry!"

Aspirin. Relieved, Frank popped them in his mouth and swallowed them dry. As he choked them down, Dean threw the car into reverse. Frank was slammed into the door as Dean floored the accelerator and put the car back on the road.

"Hang on, baby," Dean said in a tight, determined voice. "Five minutes." He glanced over as they hit paved roads. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I'm having a heart attack," Frank replied honestly. The pressure in his chest had eased, it was tolerable now. Since he took some aspirin maybe there wouldn't be much damage.

"Make that two minutes," Dean growled. The car leaped with renewed fury, probably fueled by Dean's worry alone. That was one thing Frank could always count on, Dean to worry about him.

At the hospital they skidded to a stop just outside the ER doors, the Impala at a weird angle. Frank was going to suggest Dean just find a parking spot, but Dean wasn't in the car. He stared at the empty driver's seat, trying to process why it was empty, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking over, Frank found Dean pulling him out of the car.

"You should be wearing your sling," he said as he stood up. It felt good to move again. Okay, not good, but better. It definitely felt better to move.

Dean glared as he steered them toward the ER entrance. "I'll make a deal with you," Dean was saying, "you walk out of here, and I won't bitch about wearing the sling ever again."

"Deal," Frank agreed readily. "I'm holding you to that."

"You better," Dean said. "Wait here," he said before rushing off to the admissions desk. Frank waited, but he couldn't just stand in one spot. He had to pace.

Next thing he knew, Dean was at his elbow guiding him to a room labeled 'triage.' "Didn't they do that on M.A.S.H.?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "I have a feeling you're next."

Once again, Dean was right. They slapped some monitors on his chest and started an I.V. before putting him on one of those rolling beds. Dean stayed right by his side the whole time, calmly answering all the doctor's questions and hanging on to his hand tight enough to allow Frank to focus on that instead of the pain in his chest.

Finally the pain eased. Frank was able to take a deep breath. He smiled at Dean, who sat close by his bed still holding his hand. "How long have you been keeping aspirin in the car?"

Dean stared right at him, unflinching as he spoke. "Remember the first visit I made to see you, after two months of awesome phone calls?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. So?"

"I bought it on the way," he replied evenly with a shrug of his good shoulder.

Frank grinned broadly, relief over being alive flooding through him. "On the way? Dude, you had it bad."

Dean's eyes glinted with a similar relief to the one coursing through Frank right now. "I know," he said in a soft, honest voice as the thumb with the wonderful silver ring on it rubbed across the back of Frank's hand. "I still do."

Frank glanced around before asking his next question. "So what are we going to do about-"

"Nothing," Dean cut him off in a hard voice. "I'm going to call Bobby. He can handle it. You and I are going home the minute they release you." His hand tightened around Frank's. "It was stupid to come here in the first place."

"No. It wasn't," Frank tried to argue gently, knowing just how sensitive Dean was despite his rough-and-ready exterior. "I understand why you had to come. That's why we came. This isn't your fault."

The far too familiar look of self-incrimination dropped away, thankfully. Confusion reigned at the moment. "You do?"

"Sure," Frank told him, hoping to be believed. "You make decisions with your heart." Dean's eyes rolled back and his hand threatened to pull away, but Frank held on tight. "And there is **nothing** wrong with that. It's just one more reason I love you." He smiled at Dean. "It's part of what makes you such an amazing person."

Those wonderful, mysterious eyes rolled again, but Dean wasn't pulling away now.

"So," Frank figured it was high time to change topics, "are you ready to talk names yet?"

Dean chuckled as his tense frame relaxed in the visitor's chair. "Sure, baby. Do you want to start with girl or boy names?"

Frank grinned widely. "Gender-neutral."

Dean's hand clamped tighter around his. "Sick bastard." But then he sighed. "Fine."

Frank's eyebrows shot up. "Really? You have some?"

"Dude, we have to be prepared," Dean said, but his eyes gave him away. This was just to appease Frank, and Dean had been saving it to surprise him. What a sweetheart, though Frank would never say it aloud.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 - **_Well, I hope you folks enjoy that 'missing' chapter - I just posted it. On with the plot!! (Sorry, you'll have to wait a little while longer for more smut, unless you count that one-shot. LOL)_

"You have Frank's number?" Sam demanded, holding out his hand.

Dad gave him a weird look as he handed it over. "Of course. Don't you?"

Sam refused to answer. He pulled out his laptop from behind the seat in the truck. "Any idea which carrier he uses?" Sam asked as he booted it up.

"Why? What are you doing?" Dad demanded.

"I'm going to call his carrier, pretend to be Frank and have them turn on the GPS so I can find them," Sam informed his father.

Dad's mouth did a strange twisting thing. "You sound like you've done this before."

Sam shook his head. "Nah, it's one of Dean's tricks." He looked up the carrier and made the call. Once the gps was active, Sam could see which city Dean and Frank were in.

"Got 'em," he announced proudly.

Dad pointed at the laptop with one hand. "And you wonder why I kept my phone off."

Sam had to scowl at his dad. "Not really," he admitted.

"You have no idea how hard it was to keep you and Dean off my trail," Dad said and he sounded proud instead of annoyed by it.

"Why?" Sam demanded. "Did we ever come close?"

Dad's lips pursed, but he didn't say anything. Bastard. Now he knew where Dean got it from.

* * *

Since Frank was sound asleep, Dean figured it might be safe to sneak off for a few minutes to call Bobby. Apparently using cell phones around heart monitoring equipment was a no-no. He sat on a wrought iron bench just outside the hospital, next to a water fountain, while his cell powered up. There was no sign of the Impala out here, so the hospital must have had it towed. One more thing he needed to deal with. Later.

Huh. Nineteen voicemails.

Dean ignored the voicemails, figuring they were all from Dad and Sam. He picked Bobby out of his phone list and waited for the pain-in-the-ass to pick up.

"'lo?" a sleepy, gruff voice answered.

"Hey, Bobby. It's Dean. Look, I'm sorry to call so late, but-"

"Dean!" Bobby thundered, sounding much more awake. "Your stupid-ass father called me two days ago asking about you and then hung up on me. You weren't answering your phone. Now tell me what the hell is going on!"

Holy crap, he didn't think Dad would actually call Bobby. That had been an empty threat from the get-go. Now one of his lousy ideas for coercing a member of his family had backfired, as usual.

Dean let out a long sigh as he stretched out his legs. "You want the long version or the short version?" he asked.

"Let's start with short," Bobby demanded.

"Dad and Sam are out demon hunting and Frank and I went to check out a ghost truck for an old friend of mine. The ghost truck came after us after I found and torched the truck, the original one, and Frank had a heart attack, so now I need somebody I can trust to finish the hunt." Dean stared at the water spray from the fountain. The droplets sparkled in the lights from the parking lot.

"You took Frank? On a hunt?" Bobby's voice raised again. Yeah, this was so not good. "Have you lost your frigging mind?"

"Maybe." Dean took a deep breath before plunging in again. "So? You gonna help me out or what?"

Before Bobby could answer Dean heard a beeping sound from his phone. "Hang on," he said as he pulled it away from his ear. It was Sam. Oh, great! Let's just top off the day the right way, huh?

"Hey, Bobby? Sam's calling me. Can I call you back?" he asked.

"Fine. Just don't take too long, you already woke me up once," Bobby replied.

"Thanks." Dean switched to the other call. "Now what?" he asked.

"Oh, thank God," Sam practically shouted in his ear. "I got him!" he yelled in the background. Then, into the phone, "Where the hell are you and why was your car impounded?"

"My car?" Dean asked, not quite comprehending his side of the conversation. "How did you know my car was impounded?"

"Frank's phone is in it," Sam snapped. "You can't be in jail, unless this is your phone call?"

"No," Dean said slowly, "besides, you called me. Why would you track Frank's phone?" What in the hell was Sam up to? "You mean you're here?"

"Yes we're here!" Sam sounded kind of pissed. Well, he had been stuck alone with Dad for days. "And your car is here. Where. Are. You?"

"Uh, at the hospital. It's just off the highway," Dean started to explain.

"I know where it is!" Sam said and now Dean placed how his brother sounded: worried. "Hospital!" he called out in the background again. "We'll be there in ten minutes. What name are you using? How bad is it?"

"Name?" Dean asked as his brain slowly engaged. "Uh, Warren. But Sam, it's not..." again he tried to explain, without success.

"You did have them do an ultrasound, right?" Sam demanded. "Never mind, I'll ask your doctor when I get there."

Dean looked at his phone. Sam had hung up. Typical brat. With a shake of his head, he called Bobby back. "Bobby? Look, I'm sorry. I guess Dad and Sam are here to take care of it. Sorry I woke you up."

"Dean, did you say Frank had a heart attack?" Bobby asked slowly.

"Yeah," Dean admitted softly. "I guess taking him on a hunt, even as a spectator, is a really bad idea." A long sigh escaped from him. "Hell, Bobby, everything's been kind of stressful for him lately. Maybe it's time to get a new number. If I don't hear about people who need help, I won't be tempted."

"Dean? What the hell are you talking about?" The gentle tone had tears stinging his eyes. "Since when have you passed up helping people? What's going on with you?"

After wiping his eyes, and since when had tears come so easy?, Dean swallowed hard before trying to talk again. "A lot," he admitted. "Uh," a nervous chuckle escaped, "I'm getting round."

"Round? Why would... Holy crap. Are you serious?" Did Bobby sound excited? "Wh-when? When's the baby due?"

"About five months," he replied as a smile came unbidden on his face.

"You jackass, why didn't you call me?" Bobby demanded.

Dean chuckled because despite the strong words, Bobby's tone was still friendly and warm. "I don't know, Bobby. Things have been happening too fast lately. I mean, it's been just one thing after another. Tell you what, why don't you come for Thanksgiving. I promise, I'll catch you up on everything."

"Sounds real good," Bobby replied. "So Frank's doing okay?"

"Yeah." Dean had to swallow hard again before he could speak. "Yeah, the doctors said we can head home tomorrow or the next day. They just want to keep an eye on him at least overnight. Look, Bobby, I really should get back. He was sleeping when I came out to call."

"No problem. How about you call me when you're both home? Maybe we'll start the holidays a little early," he suggested.

Tears stung his eyes again. "Sounds good. I, uh, need to go."

"Night, Dean. Look after Frank." And Bobby hung up.

Dean sat for a moment, enjoying the stillness of the night and the way the light played across the shower from the fountain. His solitude was broken by the sounds of a truck motor. It skidded into the hospital parking lot, the black truck shining in the yellow lights. With another deep sigh he stood, waiting to face the music.

The sounds of Sam's and Dad's voices carried across the parking lot. They were arguing, but what else was new?

"Then you tell him," Dad snapped.

"He won't listen to me," Sam argued. "He'll do it if you say so."

Dad shook his head at Sam. "Son, you just don't know what you're talking about."

"I wish you'd stop saying that!" Sam raced up to the emergency entrance, right past Dean.

Dean watched his little brother go inside without even casting a glance in his direction. What the hell?

"Don't be too hard on him," Dad said as he changed his path to walk up to Dean. "He's done nothing but talk about you since we figured out what you two were up to."

"Which was when?" Dean asked as they started for the hospital doors together. He'd thought Dad had known before they left.

"First night on the road," Dad replied. "What happened to Frank? How bad is it?"

"Probably release him tomorrow," Dean told his Dad. Sam was demanding the ER admissions nurse find his brother. Dean ignored his little brother's rants as he and Dad walked past. "They said it was another heart attack, but pretty minor. So far they haven't found any damage from it, but they're going to do some more tests in the morning."

Dad's heavy arm fell over his shoulders. "I promise, Dean," he said softly as the sound of large sneakers pounding the tiles echoed in the otherwise silent hall, "there won't be a next time. Not like this."

Dean refused to comment. Sure Dad sounded like he meant it, right now. Later might be a different story.

"Dean!" Sam caught up to them. "What are you doing out of bed? And why are you dressed? What is going on?"

Dean looked at Dad. "He hasn't always been this slow, right?"

Dad's arm over his shoulders tightened in a quick hug. "Probably."

Sam stepped in front of them, forcing him and Dad to stop in the middle of the empty hall. "You mean you let Frank get hurt?"

"Let?" Dean demanded as he stepped closer to his brother. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Let?"

"Sam," Dad used his warning voice, which of course meant Sam was going to ignore it. Dad's arm was back around his shoulders and he was being manuevered around Sam. "Dean, what else did the doctors say? Do they think it was stress, or triggered by adrenaline from being chased, or a combination?"

Dean shrugged as he led them to Frank's room. He paused before going inside. "I don't know, Dad. All I know is I can't let this happen again." His eyes pleaded with his father to understand what he meant by that. "Why don't you and Sam go get a motel room?" Dean dug the paper with the address out of his pocket. "This is where Cassie lives. You can check in with her in the morning."

Dad took the paper from his fingers slowly. "You sure?" he asked and the man had the decency to sound hurt.

Dean looked his father in the eye as he replied, "I'm sure." Then he glanced over at Sam's puzzled face. "Night, Sam. Dad." Dean pushed open the door to Frankie's room, making sure to close it behind him. He rested with his back against the door, waiting for his eyes to readjust to the lack of light inside the room. Once the muffled sounds of Sam pestering Dad faded and Dean could make out the furniture in the room, he moved slowly to the chair by Frankie's bed.

"I can't believe you told them to leave," Frankie's voice was loud in the quiet room.

"I just can't deal with them right now," Dean admitted, hearing just how weary he sounded.

"I can't sleep," Frankie said. "I'm missing something."

Dean rolled his eyes in the dark room. "You're not serious."

Frankie rolled on to his side and scooted to the far edge of the bed. "Move it, Winchester," he said patting the bed beside him.

With a sigh of resignation, because right now Dean couldn't refuse Frankie anything, he climbed into bed. He noticed Frankie even made sure he was sleeping on his good shoulder. As his head rested on the single pillow, Frankie leaned tightly against him. One hand pulled his shirt up and slipped underneath to rest on his fat stomach. Frankie made a contented sound as he wriggled even closer, his breath warm on Dean's neck. Dean stared into the semi-darkness for a long time listening to the sounds of Frankie breathing as sleep refused to come for him.

* * *

"Dad!" Sam flapped his arms before climbing into the truck. "What the hell is going on? Why are we leaving?"

"Because your brother told us to," he said simply. "Now get in."

Sam slammed the passenger door. Hard. "And what does that have to do with-"

"Everything," Dad snapped, cutting him off. "We screwed up, Sam. You and me. Now we're going to play by Dean's rules. Period." He started the truck's engine. "And I don't want to hear another word about it."

Sam brooded in silence until after they found a motel room for the night. "So how bad is Frank hurt?" he asked as he dropped his bag by his bed.

"He's not," Dad answered in a short, clipped tone. "He had a heart attack."

Sam felt his eyes widen as he stared at his father. "What? He's too young for that!"

"You'd think," Dad seemed to agree. "But it's not the first time. He has a family history. There's a reason his mother hasn't worked in almost twenty years."

Sam dropped heavily to the bed. "Holy crap."

"You can say that again," Dad said. "Want the shower? I think I'm just going to crash."

"Uh, sure." Sam rummaged in his bag for a change of clothes. "So what are we supposed to do?"

"Take over the hunt," Dad said as he stretched out on the other bed. "In the morning," he said through a long yawn.

Sam watched Dad's eyes close before heading into the bathroom. Once in the shower he allowed the hot water to pour over him for a long time in an attempt to wash away his anxieties, his sins. As he stood there, he realized that Dean had never been placed first in their family, by any of them. Except maybe Mom. While Sam knew, for a fact, losing Dean would be the final blow for him, one he could never recover from, he never acted like it. He had never shown his big brother just how dependent he was on Dean's mere existence. Dean might not let him show it now. It could be too late.

He sunk down to the cold smooth tub as the water continued to beat down, now spraying into his eyes as well. There was no difference on his skin between the hot water spray and the tears flowing down his face, but Sam could taste salt on his lips. What could he do? Each time Sam tried to do the right thing he wound up disappointing someone, either his father or his brother. Was this how Dean felt all the time, standing between him and Dad? God, life had been so much easier before he started worrying about this kind of crap, when he was just focused on school, or revenge.

* * *

Joe Bertram hung up the phone with a smile which made his brother a little uneasy. "I think I might have found their weak spot, but we'll have to wait a few months to find out for sure."

Gary suppressed the shudder threatening from watching the cold calculating smile. He nodded, concentrating on separating their laundry. A few months. That was good. Maybe he still had time to distract Joe from whatever stupid idea his little brother had cooked up now.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31** - _Welcome back! Okay, we're not in the gutter in this chapter, but there will be a return in the next one._

It was still dark when a hand shaking his shoulder woke him. Frank blinked into the low lighting at the face of a smiling woman.

"Huh?" he grunted.

"Time for your blood-work," she whispered.

Frank tried blinking the bleariness from his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Four," she said in a hushed voice.

"In the morning?" Were they nuts?

"Oh yes," she replied in the same hushed voice. "This way the doctor will have your results before he sees you in a few hours."

Did that make sense? Frank decided he wasn't awake enough to make that decision. He rolled back until he felt the cold metal bar against his spine, then he offered his arm to her. A chill lingered in his hand after being on Dean's warm belly for so long and the nurse's fingers were ice-cold.

"Sorry to wake you," she continued to whisper as the vial filled with deep red. "I really hated to disturb you, you both looked so comfortable."

Frank offered her a smile. "Just lucky, I guess," he replied. He nodded at Dean's sleeping form, "We celebrated our third anniversary a few days ago." Had it only been a few days?

Her smile broadened. "Congratulations."

Frank wanted to tell her they were expecting too, but this wasn't Pearland. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, for a change. Besides, that type of thing really didn't need to get back to Dean's ex. The last thing Frank wanted was for that bitch to think they were together just because of the baby instead of the real reason. He had no desire to make her feel better about herself.

Finally the nurse pressed a cotton ball tightly against his arm. After a moment she added a piece of tape over it and told him to sleep tight. Frank rolled against Dean, slipping his hand back under the shirt Dean looked so damned good in. Dean mumbled something as Frank's hand resumed its earlier position.

"What?" he whispered, wondering if he woke Dean.

"You're cold," Dean mumbled. "Better get closer."

Frank leaned over to squint at Dean's face in the semi-darkness. It was smooth and relaxed, the natural tension of wakefulness gone. He grinned, realizing that Dean was talking in his sleep. Doing as Dean asked, Frank snuggled closer and breathed in deeply. He could smell smoke, sweat, and the unique scent of Dean. Now that he was awake, Frank chose to stay awake and take advantage of this rare opportunity to just think.

So this was what Dean did, day in and day out. Sure, Dean had told him all about the hunts, even to the point of describing some gory details, but it never sunk in before. All those things were real. Dean fought honest-to-God monsters. Before it had been more along the lines of watching a horror movie, it seemed real but in the back of your mind you still knew it was fake, nothing to worry about. It was all too real now. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, poltergeists, probably even zombies, they were all out there waiting to get you. It certainly explained why Dean seemed a little off and his humour was rather sharp. Actually, it was amazing how well adjusted both Dean and Sam were considering their lives and upbringing, especially Dean.

Frank hugged him tighter as thoughts of how John had left his sons alone for days or weeks at a time when they were growing up flowed through his mind. It was a taboo subject between them, how Dean grew up. Frank had a deep respect for John, because Dean did. To cross John was to cross Dean, and Frank had decided a long time ago it was not worth it. That was one battle he could never win, so together they drew the line at John. Frank simply had to accept it happened and was in the past. None of it could be changed now anyway, so there was no point in arguing about the rights and wrongs. If only Sam could see it that way too, but he had grown up with it as Dean had. Instead of accepting it and moving on, Sam still railed against the way they were raised. Dean was right, Sam and John were a lot alike.

So lost in his own thoughts, Frank didn't notice the doctor walking in his room. "I prefer teddy bears," he said with a smile.

It took Frank a moment to pull from his musings about his in-laws to process the fact a man in a white lab coat stood before him. "My way is warmer," he replied evenly. "This room is really cold."

The doctor shrugged. "Ask for an extra blanket," he said. "And my way means I have more room to sleep." He looked down at the chart in his hands. "I've ordered some tests for you first thing, so they'll be along any time now. I don't think they're planning on wheeling two of you around."

Frank shook his head at the doctor. "I'll take care of it," he promised. "How long do we have?"

The doctor shrugged as he checked his watch. "Hopefully less than ten minutes. I'd like to get the results back this morning so we can determine your release."

"Thanks." Frank waited, but the doctor didn't move. He shot a hard look at the door. Still no response. Finally Frank jerked his head at the door with a glare.

"Oh!" His doctor rushed out without a backwards glance. Finally! Some people just couldn't take a hint.

Frank rubbed his hand over Dean's abdomen, trying to wake him gently. "Dean? Babe? Time to get up."

"Five more minutes," he mumbled in his not-nearly-awake-yet voice.

"Better get up now," Frank told him, "unless you want a whole bunch of doctors and nurses to catch us cuddling."

"Wha-?" Dean's head rolled back to look at him. His wide hazel eyes blinked at Frank a few times and he could pinpoint the exact instant comprehension dawned. "Oh, shit."

Frank grinned as Dean sat up rubbing his face. "I do like you in that shirt," he said.

Dean gave him a sheepish grin. "Why do you think I brought it?"

"To make me jealous," Frank replied as he watched Dean stretch.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged with his mischievous little boy grin, "that too."

Frank shifted to the center of the bed where the sheets were still warm from Dean. "See? I knew it. What happened to deny, deny, deny?"

Dean checked his watch. "Damn, it's early. I hate that about hospitals. They want you to rest, but they won't let you." He met Frank's eyes. "So what do you want? Me to go with you or wait here?"

"Go with," Frank insisted. "You'd really stay here?"

"Waiting on you?" Dean's face went all hard and serious. "Well, duh."

"No, that's not what I meant," Frank protested quickly. "I was asking if you'd rather stay in the room than come watch the tests, not if you were going to leave. I know better than that."

Dean's face softened. "I hope so." He shrugged. "Whatever you want, baby."

Frank beamed at him.

Dean laughed lightly as he leaned over to plant a kiss on Frank's cheek. "I know; you love it." He straightened up to give Frank a stern look. "You keep acting like a moon-eyed teenager and they'll think we're newly-weds or some crap like that."

Frank gave him one of his big grins. "Oh, you love it. You know you love it."

Dean chuckled as he sat in the chair and grabbed Frank's hand. "Any idea what kinds of tests they're going to do?"

He could feel the slight tremble in Dean's hand. "Well, first they have to make sure I'm still breathing. Then they check to make sure my heart is still beating..."

Dean's hand squeezed as the skin surrounding Dean's eyes tightened and crinkled. "Asshole." But he was smiling now. Dean was still smiling when the orderlies came to take them down for the tests, holding his hand and cracking bad jokes.

* * *

Sam stared disbelieving at his father. "You're not serious? They got rid of it?"

"Looks like," Dad said with the small smile Sam had come to associate with pride. "Good thing too, seeing how you're driving them home."

"What?" Sam spun around. "I'm what?"

Dad glared at him. "You don't honestly expect Frank to drive the whole way back after a heart attack, do you?"

"Well, no," Sam said slowly. "But Dean can..."

"Dean's in no shape to make that long of a drive by himself. He probably shouldn't even be in the car for that long," Dad said in a worried voice. "Now that we're sure it's gone, let's go spring the Impala." He glanced over at Sam. "So what did you think of that Cassie chick?"

Sam made a face. "What a bitch."

"Seems you and your brother have similar taste in women," Dad replied.

"Hey!" Sam spun around to face his father. "You can't compare her with Serene!"

"I'm not," Dad said in a snide voice, "I'm comparing her with _Peaches_."

Sam glared hotly. "Funny. You're hysterical." He slammed the passenger door of the truck after plopping down in the seat.

* * *

Sam felt strange sitting behind the steering wheel of the Impala with Frank in the passenger seat. Dean snored loudly from the back-seat, clearly exhausted. Sam glanced into the back-seat, just to be sure Dean really was all right, before attempting to talk to Frank. He wouldn't blame Frank for not wanting to speak to him ever again after what happened.

"So, uh, how are you feeling?" Sam asked cautiously, fully prepared to endure a long lecture.

"Like I was run over by a truck," Frank replied. He spun around to peer into the back-seat before settling back again. "Dean doesn't need to hear that," he said by way of explanation.

"Probably not," Sam agreed. He wondered what else he could say to at least make small talk. He and Frank had never really had to talk to each other one-on-one before. He cleared his throat. "Any idea how mad Dean is? At me?"

"Not really," Frank replied lightly. "But I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."

Sam frowned and shot a quick glance to his right. "Why not?"

Frank shrugged. "It's not like he'll stay mad at you. I don't think it's possible."

"Oh, really?" Sam demanded as he tried to keep his voice down. "And why is that?"

Frank turned sideways in the seat so he could face Sam. "You're Dean's little brother," he said simply. "That means you can do no wrong." A long sigh escaped. "He'll probably just find some way of blaming himself for it anyway."

Sam's jaw clenched as those words sunk in. "Frank, would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Depends," Frank replied slowly. "What is it?"

"If there is ever a next time," Sam said, "you'll call me before agreeing to go do anything stupid?"

"Well now that depends," Frank said. "Are you going to give me your cell number?"

Sam nearly laughed with his relief. "Next time we stop for gas," he promised. "And I expect you to give me yours, too."

"Then we have a deal," Frank replied in the light voice from earlier.

They decided to drive straight through to the house since Dean was still out cold in the back. Sam was starting to understand why Dean liked Frank. The guy was personable and easy to talk to. Frank only asked one or two questions about why Sam chose Stanford and what his major was, nothing about how he left or the fact he never called.

"Would you mind if I asked you something kind of personal?" Sam asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Ask away," Frank replied in the same easy voice.

"Why do you have a roommate?" This had been bothering Sam since he discovered exactly what Frank and Dean's relationship was.

Frank chuckled. "I hate living by myself. I mean, if Dean were home all the time, I might find another place for Steve to live, but as it is, I'm hoping Steve will stay."

"Even with the baby?" Sam asked, shocked.

"Sure. Why not?" Frank asked. "At some point Dean's going to want to go back to work. I don't want to be stuck at home with the kid by myself."

"Oh," Sam said softly. "I never thought about it before." He swallowed hard as the wheels in his mind whirled. "You really think Dean'll want to go hunting again."

Frank chuckled at him. "Of course. Knowing Dean, this will just make him that much more determined. He won't want anything coming for the baby."

Sam passed a truck on the highway. Frank was probably right about that. Having a new person, a baby, to worry about could make Dean more focused on hunting, not less. He'll want to clean up this world so his kid won't have to worry about the things that go bump in the night.

"Yeah," Sam had to admit. "You're probably right."

Frank squirmed in his seat for a moment before speaking again. "Which brings me to a personal question I'd like to ask."

Sam shrugged. "Ask away." It was only fair, he thought to himself. Frank answered his question.

"Are you still planning to quit hunting? For good?" Frank asked.

Now that was not a question Sam expected from Frank. "Uh, no offense Frank, but what business is it of yours?"

Frank's fingers tapped out a hard rhythm on the armrest. "Because," he said slowly, like he was trying hard to control his temper, "I'd like to know if I should expect Dean to be hunting alone when he does go back." The tapping fingers sped up. "I don't like it when Dean hunts alone."

"Enough, baby," Dean mumbled from the back seat. Frank twisted around to look in the back. "Leave Sammy alone."

Sam caught Frank frowning into the back at Dean. "Okay, Dean," he said softly. "Don't worry about it."

A grunt from the back was his only answer.

Frank sighed as he turned to face forward again. "Even when he's sound asleep," he muttered.

No way! Sam twisted around quickly to snag a quick glance at Dean curled up in the back. Yep, Frank was right, he was asleep.

"Even what?" Sam asked.

"Huh?" Frank still didn't look at him.

"You said even when he's sound asleep," Sam explained. "Even what?"

"Nothing," Frank sighed. "It's not important." He waved a hand at Sam. "You weren't supposed to hear that anyway."

Sam didn't like the sound of that, but he wasn't sure he should press Frank about it. He might try pumping Dean for information later. It was pretty clear it was more about Dean than him anyway. Then again, if it was about Dean, maybe he should press Frank about it.

"I wasn't supposed to hear you say that," he mused, trying to sound conversational. "Hear what?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean grunted. "Quit picking on Frankie."

Sam thrust his thumb over one shoulder. "Is he, uh, still...?"

"Yep," Frankie replied after leaning over the back of the seat again. "Out cold."

When Sam glanced over at Frank, he was beaming. Clearly Dean wasn't the only weird one around here. No wonder he and Frank were together.

"Wait a minute. Did Dean call you 'baby'?" Sam asked, hoping for something to be able to tease his older sibling about later.

Frank chuckled, still beaming. "Better believe it," he said proudly.

Yeah. They were definitely both weird.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32 - _Welcome back gutter-neighbors! We're taking a nice swim in the gutter this evening, followed with heavy schmoop. I hope you all enjoy!!_

_(As a kind reviewer pointed out, Dean claimed to be "re-hymenated" in a recent ep. So, how close is this fic to canon? LOL!!)  
_

It was early morning when they arrived home. Dean didn't seem to care about anything but crawling into bed. Frank woke him up a few times to make him eat. Dean never really seemed to wake up, going to the bathroom and then coming to the table to eat in a sleepy daze. When the food was gone, Dean sat staring at his empty plate until Frank gently told him to go back to bed. It was creepy seeing Dean so complacent. Frank hoped it was simply exhaustion, but Sam seemed worried too.

Calling it an early night, Frank left Sam and Steve watching some movie in the den. He shucked all of his clothes except for his underwear the instant his bedroom door was closed. After using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, Frank crawled under the covers. He sidled over until he could feel the warmth from Dean's body against his arm. Satisfied, Frank turned off the soft bedside lamp and allowed sleep to come.

A heavy weight pressed down on him. Frank tried to move, but the weight had him pinned, even his arms. Warm wetness travelled along his neck. Panicked, his eyes searched the pitch-black room but he couldn't see a damn thing. Jake's taunting voice and nasty hot breath came back with startling clarity. His body stiffened and froze with all-encompassing fear.

"Frank?"

The voice didn't sound like Jake. Did it?

The weight holding him shifted, releasing his arms. Frank nearly threw the weight off, but he still couldn't bring himself to move and the light from the lamp blinded him momentarily. He waited a moment as his eyes adjusted.

"Frankie? Are you okay?" Dean's worried face hovered between him and the lamp.

Frank heard relieved laughter coming from him. "Yeah, babe," he assured Dean. "Just one favor?"

Dean nodded slowly, his face creased with concern. "Name it."

"Leave the light on?" Frank asked, feeling stupid. He shouldn't need the light on like some little kid.

Dean frowned, his brow wrinkling. The unspoken question of 'why' was clear in his expression.

Frank tried to shrug it off even though he knew how freaked out he felt. "Just so I can see it's you."

Dean's eyes slammed shut for a moment before a gentle smile appeared. He didn't speak, just nodded as he leaned back over Frank. Now when Dean's mouth sucked along his neck, Frank leaned to the side to allow Dean better access. He and Dean had spent more than one awesome night in a pitch-black room, just not since the incident with Jake. Frank had not thought about it before this instant, and with Dean making him feel like this, he didn't want to think about it now.

Whiskers softer now since Dean quit taking the testosterone, they still prickled against his skin as Dean made his way down Frank's body. With the light on Frank could see Dean was completely naked, the sling no where in sight. Then Dean's mouth was on his hard penis, sliding up and down, enveloping him in hot, wet warmth. He put his hands on Dean's head, the hair soft on his skin and tickling between his fingers.

Dean froze under his hands, eyes locked with his. Frank pressed gently against Dean's scalp, but he didn't move. Slowly he dropped his hands to his sides. Dean resumed the slow, intense bobs. His amazing lover had never been very good at blow-jobs, having been mostly on the receiving end. Frank usually preferred coming inside Dean to coming inside his mouth but he clearly was not going to have a say in it tonight. He doubted he had ever seen Dean quite like this before, not even right after saving him from Jake.

Holy crap, that felt good! Dean did not speed up, but he had to be sucking harder or something, because – god! - it was awesome. Had he really thought Dean wasn't very good at this? Frank lost all track of time, he had no idea how long Dean had been going down on him, only that he needed to keep his hands twisted in the sheets to keep them off of Dean. Still, it wasn't easy just lying there.

The feeling swept over him, causing Frank to gasp. Then Dean started humming and he couldn't stay still any longer. As the vibrations went through his dick, Frank arched off the bed into Dean's mouth. His hips were forced back to the bed in a crushing grip as Dean continued to suck and hum, wringing the orgasm from him. Frank panted heavily as his limp penis dropped from Dean's mouth.

A strong warm hand pushed against his side. Frank rolled over, on to a towel covered pillow waiting for him. Frank shifted over, finally understanding a little better what Dean had planned. He heard the distinctive snap of the lube opening. Frank spread his legs in anticipation as Dean shifted above him on the bed.

The wonderful hot mouth was back on his neck, working down to his shoulder. As Frank lost himself in the sensations, cool lubed fingers slid down the crease of his ass. He expected the usual teasing, for Dean to go slow and practically torment him. Instead one of Dean's fingers slipped in right away. Before Frank could process that things were very different tonight, there was a second finger inside him and it was feeling pretty damned good. He pressed back against Dean's fingers as Dean's mouth moved across his neck to his other shoulder.

Every touch, kiss, and stroke echoed with passion. Frank couldn't think at all, he could only go with whatever Dean wanted. Then Dean pressed inside him, sliding in all the way. Dean stopped, lying on Frank's back and waiting. When he felt ready, Frank nodded. With the same slow intensity, Dean pumped into him. The hip rolls started, stroking him just the right way. Jesus! Frank had never felt more controlled and dominated than he did right now, not even when Jake had him tied up. The main difference now being, of course, the sense of feeling loved rather than embarrassed. The lack of rope was a serious bonus, too.

Dean thrust hard and slow, again and again, until Frank heard an odd noise just on the edge of his consciousness.

* * *

Sam rolled out of bed. What the hell woke him up? He heard it, a noise like something banging against the outside of the house. Sam pulled on his pants and grabbed a gun before heading out of his room to investigate. He practically ran over Steve in the den.

"I'll check it out," Sam whispered as he motioned towards the front door.

Steve gave a quick laugh. "Don't bother, man. I figure it won't last more than another five or ten minutes anyway."

When another loud crack pierced the otherwise still night, Sam realized it came from Frank's room. Frank and Dean's room. "Please don't tell me..." Sam couldn't finish his sentence.

"Okay. I won't." Steve landed on the couch with an unceremonious plop. "Wonder if there's a good old movie on now?"

Sam stood uncertainly in the middle of the den listening to sounds he would rather not hear.

"Sam?" Steve sat up straighter and motioned to Sam's hand. "Do you have a gun? In the house?"

Sam glanced down at the forty-five clutched in his right hand. "Yeah," he replied slowly. "Is that a problem?"

"Frank doesn't exactly like guns," Steve explained, "in the house. I mean, he knows Dean has to use them for work, but they're supposed to stay out in the car."

Sam slipped it into his back waistband. "Give me a break," he replied. "I don't believe for a second Dean walks around this town unarmed."

Steve shrugged as he picked up the remote for the television. "Whatever, man. If he does, it's news to me. You like action or horror?"

Another sharp crack resounded from the master bedroom. Crap. Sam moved to sit next to Steve. "Action."

"You got it," Steve said as he selected a movie that was half over. Well, at least it meant they could see the really good action parts.

* * *

Frank wasn't really sure what was happening with his body, only that it all felt so damned good he didn't want it to ever stop. Dean knew him so well, each thrust pumped into him just right, and now parts of him were responding in kind. His dick was hardening and Frank ground his hips against the pillow with each of Dean's thrusts. That odd sound, which tickled just at the edge of his hearing, happened again with Dean's next plunge inside him.

He gasped again and desperately tried to get more friction on his now hard, aching cock. Dean seemed to understand, because he rolled them to the side. Dean thrust again, one arm wrapping around his waist and warm hand enveloping his dick. With the next thrust there was another sound and Dean's hand stripped down his cock in a tight grip. Holy crap! This was freaking awesome!

* * *

Sam checked his watch. "I thought you said five or ten minutes?" he asked. It had been over twenty.

"I try not to time them," Steve replied with a shrug. "If I knew how long they could go for, I'd start feeling inferior." He pointed at the television screen. "Whoa! Did you see that? That guy's head came off!"

Sam tried to concentrate on the movie as yet another slam came from the bedroom. Jesus! How did they keep going for so long? He figured Dean would probably give him some tips if he asked, but could he ask? When the next slam was accompanied by a porn-movie moan, Sam decided then and there he would freaking ask.

* * *

Dean's hand squeezed tighter and Frank lost it, coming on the towel covered pillow. Then Dean rolled them back over so Frank was on his stomach again. He thrust hard and swift, his breath heavy where Frank's neck met his back. Frank felt it when Dean's orgasm finally came, his lover's body shuddering against his back, their slick skin slippery anywhere they touched.

Dean's arms wrapped tight around him, one snaking around Frank's neck then over his chest, the other around his waist. Frank expected Dean to relax now, his embrace to loosen, but instead the arms tightened uncomfortably.

"Dean?" Frank asked cautiously. "Babe? Are you okay?"

Dean nodded against his back but did not say anything. He also did not loosen his hold. Frank's mind whirled with possibilities until he realized what had to be going on.

Frank spoke slow and soft. "I scared you, didn't I? With the heart attack."

Frank heard Dean take a strangled breath before nodding against him again.

"Come on," he said gently. "Let me turn over." Dean's arms tightened again. "Babe? Please?"

A deep sigh came from his back and Frank knew he was going to get his way. It took a few moments, but Dean's arms loosened and Frank was able to twist around until he was on his back. He reached up to pull Dean down close, Dean's short cropped head on his shoulder as Frank held him tight.

"I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely. "But there was no way I was letting that bitch anywhere close to you unsupervised."

A strained chuckle came from Dean as he wriggled closer, their bodies plastered together with sweat and sex. "That right?"

"Yeah," Frank said as he stroked Dean's soft, fuzzy hair. "That's right." He planted a kiss on his spouse's forehead. He had toyed with the idea of referring to Dean as his husband, or for their brief future stay in the hospital as his wife, but had decided it was unfair to attempt to force Dean into a category. Spouse seemed fair and accurate.

"How about that sling?" he asked after a few minutes. "You promised."

Dean nodded again as he pushed up to a sit, allowing Frank to see his face for the first time since turning on the lamp. His cheeks were streaked with tears and his eyes red-rimmed. Frank pretended not to notice as he searched the floor for a t-shirt and the stupid sling. He helped Dean into the shirt before putting the sling on him. Even though it took at least twice as long as usual, Dean did not complain. He just watched Frank with this lost puppy expression, or maybe it was just scared. Frank doubted he had really seen Dean scared before. It made him sick to his stomach to be the cause.

With the sling on, there were only a few positions Dean could sleep in. Frank pressed him gently onto his back. He pulled the sheets over them as he laid on his side, between Dean's arm and his body. Dean's arm wrapped tightly over his back to hold him close. Frank rested his head on the pillow, nose pressed tight against the side of Dean's neck.

The damn light was still on. With a sigh, Frank pushed up from his comfortable position to reach for the switch.

"I love you."

Frank froze. He turned his head slowly to look down at Dean. "What?"

Dean looked steadily at him. "I love you."

He dropped his hand away from the lamp, staring intently at Dean in the soft light. "I know," he protested gently. "But why?"

Dean's open face creased in confusion. "Why do I love you?"

"No," Frank replied slowly. "Why are you saying it?" His eyes darted back to the lamp and the faded paper taped there. He took it off to shove in Dean's face. "You always say it, just not like that. See?"

Dean's good hand took the paper as he frowned. "Yes dear?" He glared at Frank. "Why the hell have you been hanging on to this?"

"That's the first time you said you loved me," Frank insisted, panic starting to set in. "I always knew. It just took you a while to figure it out."

Dean's eyes rolled as the tension dropped from his face. "You big softy." Then the frown came back. "Why are you so upset? I finally said it."

Frank took the paper back to shake in his face. "I knew you meant it because you couldn't just say it!"

Dean pushed up to a sit. He grabbed Frank by the back of the neck and pulled him into the kind of kiss that made him forget what planet he lived on. They broke apart and Dean had this wide grin.

"And now you know I mean it, because I'm telling you I love you," he said softly. "Now are we sleeping with the light on or off?"

It wasn't sarcastic or demanding, just a question. Dean probably would sleep with the damn light on if Frank wanted to. Frank turned off the light, moving back down with Dean. He pressed his chest against Dean's side, one arm across Dean's abdomen just above where it swelled with life. He nuzzled Dean's neck gently with his face.

"Yes, dear," Frank whispered into his neck.

Dean chuckled and his arm over Frank's back tightened again. "You do that again, and I am so kicking your ass."

"Call you dear?" Frank asked.

"No, moron," Dean snapped. "Try dying on me."

Frank relaxed into the warm embrace. "Deal." He breathed in the scents of Dean and felt protected, safe and, most of all, loved.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33 - _Yes, a new chapter! Some of you really wanted to see Sam's conversation with Dean. Here it is! I hope it meets with your gutter approval. I hope I didn't leave anything out. LOL!_

Dean reached out with his free hand to feel cool sheets. Frankie must have been up for a while. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and squinted up at the ceiling. Still freaking tired, Dean scrubbed his hand over his face wondering what time it was.

The bedroom door opened admitting Frankie. "Morning!" he said cheerfully. He climbed on the bed to crawl over Dean, huge grin plastered on his face. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."

"What time is it?" Dean asked, trying not to feel smothered by how Frankie was looming over him.

"Almost lunchtime," he replied. "And, just so you know, Sam has been waiting for you out on the back patio for the past couple of hours with an ice chest of rootbeer."

Dean frowned up at Frankie. "What the hell for?"

His grin broadened. "I think we woke up the house last night."

Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Oh, shit," he mumbled.

Frankie leaned down to lay nibbling kisses near his ear. "I've spent the morning wondering how I can scare you like that again without getting my ass kicked," he said in a low voice directly into Dean's ear.

Dean shook his head with a chuckle. "Asshole. Help me up, I need a shower."

Frankie teased him playfully as he helped Dean undress. He even waited in the bedroom while Dean showered to help him dress again. Well, dress with a lot of roaming hands and fondling, but Dean had to admit he enjoyed the attention. It was really nice to feel like he was still attractive with different areas of his body bulging out and getting fat.

"Oh, hey, Lisa dropped off a surprise for you," Frankie told him. He picked up a pair of jeans. "Check it out."

His arm already in the sling, Dean used his free arm to take the pair of jeans. They looked almost normal except the front part was not denim, it was soft like a t-shirt with a draw-string through the top all the way around. He gave Frankie a quizzical look, not wanting to insult the beloved big sister.

"Just try them, okay? Lisa went to a lot of trouble to find your size." Frankie knelt down to hold them open for Dean to step in. Feeling like a moron, Dean did. Frankie pulled the strange pants up and then his shirt out to hide the weird soft panel.

Oh, that felt so much better than the regular jeans!

"Well?" Frankie asked, looking him in the eye. "How is it?"

Dean shrugged, trying not to look like they felt as comfortable as they did. Frankie grinned again. "So I can tell Lisa they're a hit, huh? Why don't you go talk to your brother while I make you something to eat. What do you feel like?"

Dean considered the question as he followed Frankie out of the room. "Grilled cheese?"

"Your way or mine?" Frankie asked lightly, as if he didn't have another care in the world.

"Yours. Definitely," Dean replied. "With extra butter."

"One greasy grilled cheese coming up," Frankie promised, heading into the kitchen.

"Two," Dean ordered as he headed for the back door. Frankie threw him a salute before he stepped outside. Crap. He should've brought his sunglasses.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam said brightly and motioned to the other chair. "Sleep well?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean lowered himself into the empty chair. "You?"

Sam opened a bottle of rootbeer before handing it over. Then Sam opened one for himself. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about that."

Dean felt the heat in his cheek again. "Look, Sam, I'm sorry. I promise I'll try not to..."

"How the hell can you do that?" Sam asked earnestly, leaning forward in his chair with his forearms propped on his thighs.

Dean blinked at his brother in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Sam glanced around quickly as if someone might be listening in. "Dude, you two were banging the wall, literally, for almost an hour," he said in a hushed voice. "And I figure it started out a hell of a lot quieter, so that's well over an hour. How can you last that long?"

Dean felt his mouth open and close soundlessly. Twice.

Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned back in the chair. "Now you get shy about sex?" He shook his head. "Come on, Dean. Give."

"S-sorry," Dean stammered. "I just expected you to chew me out for waking you up, not for you to ask for pointers." He stared hard at his brother. "Maybe I need to get a video camera."

Sam looked confused, and horrified, before a laugh tore from him accompanied by a head shake and a quick gulp of rootbeer. "Nope, not a shifter," he assured Dean. "Just your little brother not being a prude." He glanced at the back door again before dropping his voice. "Seriously, Dean, I might not have acted like it, but I've always listened to your advice." He paused a moment. "On sex."

Ah. Dean knew there had to be a qualifier in there some place. "Uh, well..." He gave his little brother a nervous look. Sam didn't appear to be teasing, and he certainly acted sincere. Well, what the hell? Why not? "One thing you can try is, ah, cleaning the pipes."

Both of Sam's eyebrows went up. His rootbeer bottle waved in the air for Dean to elaborate.

"Well, if you're expecting to, you know, get some action, go clean the pipes an hour or two before. Just in case. You're not anxious that way and I guarantee you'll last longer."

Now Sam nodded energetically. "Okay, makes sense. Any other advice?"

Dean checked the back door again. "You want the screaming your name lecture again?"

"Pretty much," Sam answered before taking another swig. "But now I want the adult version."

Dean chuckled as he relaxed into the not-exactly-comfortable chair and brought the bottle of rootbeer to his lips. Sammy asking for advice on sex? This was freaking awesome.

"Well, if you're looking for a kind of wild night," Dean began and noticed Sam's eyes light up, "try getting her to orgasm before."

Confusion creased Sam's face. "Before what?"

"Before you get busy," Dean explained. Sam just shook his head at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes. "I have to spell it out? Fine." He pointed at Sam's crotch. "Don't take that out until you've made her come at least once."

"Okay. Why?" With the serious expression and the way Sam was paying attention, Dean kind of wondered why he wasn't taking notes here.

"The whole thing about women having multiple orgasms? Not a myth," Dean replied.

The back door opened. Frankie came out holding a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches, each side a yellowish light brown and cheese oozing from between the two slices of bread. Dean's mouth watered at the sight.

"Thanks, Frankie," he said as he held out his hand for the food.

"Not baby?" Sam asked with a grin.

Dean froze, eyes on Sam, as Frankie put the plate in his lap. "Huh?" He tried for pure innocence, he really did.

One of Frankie's big hands ran over his head. "During the ride home, you were talking in your sleep," he explained. "So can I join this conversation, or should I go call Mom and let her know we're home?"

"Call Mom," Dean replied at the same time as Sam. Some disappointment crept into Frankie's face. "I'll let you know when it's safe to come out." He leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, but where Sam could still hear, "Sammy wants to talk about _girls_."

Frankie's disappointment faded and he gave them both a grin. "Yeah, I can pass on that one. Oh, Dean? I'm not planning on telling Mom what happened."

Dean shrugged. "Fine. But you have to tell Lisa, or she'll kill me."

Frankie groaned as he headed for the house. "I don't wanna tell Lisa."

"Then I'll tell Lisa!" Dean threatened.

Frankie glanced back with a grin. "You will? Great!" He bounded into the house before Dean could protest.

"Crap," he muttered as he picked up his first sandwich.

"Lisa is the sister, right?" Sam asked. Dean nodded as he crammed half a sandwich in his mouth. Oh, man, Frankie's grilled cheese was fantastic! Just what the doctor ordered. "So why do you need to tell her?"

"Because she's older," Dean mumbled through the second half of his sandwich.

Sam stared at him, then motioned impatiently with his hand. "And?"

Dean swallowed hard to clear his mouth. "She should know." He shot his brother a hard look. "What? Besides, if she found out later and I didn't tell her..." He gave a low whistle. "And you think a Wendigo is mean, man," he told his brother with a shake of his head as he picked up half of the second sandwich.

"I'm still trying to understand _why_ she needs to know," Sam protested.

Dean glared. "Dude, if you had a heart attack and didn't tell me, the heart attack would be the least of your freaking troubles. Got it?"

"Whoa," Sam leaned back with both hands up in surrender. "Those hormones are really kicking in, huh?"

"Bite me!" Dean snapped before biting into Frankie's grilled cheese.

"Dean?" Sam asked in his 'trying not to annoy Dean' voice. "Was that it?" Dean shot him a glare over the remains of his grilled cheese. "For the sex lecture."

"Oh." Dean polished off the rest of his breakfast-lunch before getting back to it. He wiped his mouth off on the paper towel Frankie brought out with the plate. "Just one more thing. It ought to help out. You know your way around women's genitalia, right?" He waited for Sam to nod. His little brother's head tilted slightly to one side, so he was interested and paying attention. "Okay. That nub in the front? Treat it like a tiny, very sensitive penis."

"Huh?" Sam sat up to lean forward. "Do what?"

"Dude, anything you like having done to yours, she will too. Licking, sucking, hell you can even jerk her off, if you do it really carefully," Dean explained. Really, this wasn't obvious?

"You're not messing with me?" Sam demanded with wide eyes.

"Hell no," Dean snapped. "Would I do that?"

Sam glared.

"Yeah, okay, I might. But I'm not," Dean pointed out. He held out his empty plate to his brother. "How about you put that in the kitchen for me?"

"Uh, sure." Sam hopped up to take it from him.

Dean spent a few quiet moments on the back patio realizing this freaking chair was damned uncomfortable. When Sam came back out, he squinted in the late morning sunshine at his little brother. "So? Are we done talking about girls? I'd love to stretch out in my easy chair."

Sam smiled as he held out a hand to help Dean up. Dean took it, grateful to his brother for not making weird faces or acting like his former secret was freaky. He groaned as they passed the threshold into the house. "Now I have to call Lisa. Crap."

"Oh, it can probably wait a little while. We should call Dad and check up on him. That stop he was making on the way back shouldn't have taken too long," Sam said.

Dean snorted loudly through his nose. "Unless he decided to take off again."

"Nah." Sam shook his head at Dean. "I don't think so."

Dean stared in disbelief at his brother. "You've got to be kidding. Why not?"

Sam shrugged one shoulder in an off-hand kind of way. "Well, mainly because of the way he kept talking about how we screwed up."

"We?" Dean asked. "As in, you and me?"

Sam's head shook, his shaggy bangs bouncing around. "No, we as in me and Dad. We should've stopped where you wanted us to on the way there, even if it meant a cold trail in Norfolk."

"Got that right," Frankie said, an unusual edge in his voice. Before Dean had the opportunity to glare, Frankie smiled brightly. "Not that any of it matters now," he said hurriedly. "Dean? I think we have an ep of your favorite show recorded if you want to watch it."

"Monster truck rally?" Sam asked in a teasing tone.

Dean elbowed him in the side. "Sure, Frankie. Sounds good. Hey, popcorn?"

Frankie gave him a brilliant smile and a wink before heading into the kitchen, which left him with time to make this damn phone call. Dean pulled his cell out of his back pocket before settling in his easy chair. Well, so far the 'grab the cell the instant you're dressed' habit was still in full force. Sam gave him a wary glance before sitting on the couch, on the far side, presumably leaving space for Frankie to sit near him.

"I really talk in my sleep?" Dean asked as he scrolled through his phone book for Lisa's number.

"Apparently," Sam said.

"Why?" he asked as he selected her number. "What exactly did I say?"

"First you told Frank to stop pressuring me, and then you told me to lay off Frank," Sam explained. "And I still don't get that."

Dean made a face at Sam when Lisa picked up on the other end. "Dean! How do you like the jeans?"

"Uh, actually, they're great," he replied nervously. "How much were they? I could use at least one more pair."

"Frank has the receipt," she said lightly. "I can go ahead and pick up another pair for you this weekend, if you like."

"Uh, sure. Lisa?" Dean tried to wet his dry lips. Where was a demon to fight when you needed one? "I kind of need to tell you about something."

"Does this something have to do with where you two disappeared off to earlier this week?" she asked. "If it was another one of Frank's b-n-b's, I don't want to hear about it. I swear, Caleb doesn't like those places."

"It doesn't really matter where we went," he said slowly. "Are you sitting down?"

He heard Lisa gasp. "Why? What is it? What happened? I just saw Frank this morning and he looked fine. Oh, God, is something wrong with the baby?"

"No, the baby's fine. Just tell me when you're sitting down." Dean waited nervously, his brother's gaze like searing fire on his face.

"I'm sitting," she finally said. "And you better not have me all worked up over nothing."

Dean took a deep breath to steel himself. "While we were out of town, a truck ran us off the road."

"Oh, Dean! Were you hurt?" Lisa really sounded worried. Well, since he made her sit down and all, she ought to sound worried.

"No," he told her softly, "but I had to take Frank to the ER."

"B-but," she stammered, "I just saw him this morning. He looked fine."

"It was his heart," Dean finally admitted.

"I'll kill him," Lisa growled. "I was just over there this morning and the little bastard didn't say one fucking word about it!"

"Little bastard?" Dean asked.

"He'll always be a little bastard to me!" she snapped over the phone.

Dean glanced over at his own little brother. "Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. Look Lisa, I know you're upset, but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell your mother. Frank doesn't want her to know."

She made a growling sound. "So why tell me?" Lisa demanded.

Now that was the second time today someone asked him that. "Because I thought you needed to know."

The sound of air whooshing came through his earpiece. "Thanks, Dean. I mean it. If that idiot brother of mine gives you any, and I mean any trouble, about seeing the doctor or following instructions, you call me. Okay? You don't need to deal with him being stressful. I can keep him in line for you."

Dean grinned at the mental image of little Lisa, the five-foot-three spitball, brow-beating her younger brother, who stood a good foot and a half taller than her, into submission.

"Okay, but I hope I don't have to take you up on that offer," he told her with a chuckle.

"How much damage this time, Dean?" Lisa asked quietly.

"Not much," he told her. "Honest. I even made them run one of the tests twice because I couldn't believe it."

"He'll live to see his grandkids if it's the last thing I do," Lisa promised.

"Same here," Dean promised her back. "And thanks again for the jeans."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Don't tell Frank I'm coming over, though. I want to talk to him." Lisa sounded like she meant business, too. Dean was really glad he wouldn't be in Frankie's shoes tomorrow.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean told her. He could smell the popcorn now. "I'll see you then."

"Bye, Dean. And thanks."

"You bet." Dean set his cell down on the end table. He met Sam's questioning eyes. "Glad I'm not Frankie," he whispered.

Sam nodded and polished off his bottle of rootbeer. "More rootbeer? I should bring the ice chest in anyway."

"Sure." Dean pulled up the footrest and settled in. He still felt freaking tired, but like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Lisa knew now. He knew he could count on her when it came to Frankie's health. Now if he could just get Dad and Sam in line, his life would be freaking perfect.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34 **- _And another plunge into the gutter! Okay, so it won't be hermaphrodite smut this time, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. It's about time Sam saw a little action, don't you think?_

Dean's favorite show was Chuck? Really? Sam glanced back and forth between his big brother and the television screen before it hit him. Frank looked an awful lot like the actor who played Chuck. Well, Frank probably had a good fifty pounds on the actor, but the resemblances were staggering. One of these days he was going to ask about that.

"What about her?" Frank pointed out the blond on the show.

"Awesomely hot," Dean replied.

"What are you two doing?" Sam asked.

Dean grinned past Frank at him. "I'm teaching Frankie how to be bi."

Steve walked through the front door about then. "Lost cause," he said flippantly as he tossed his keys on the table by the entryway. "I tried teaching him how to be straight back in middle school. Never took."

Dean chuckled as Frank shrugged. "Can I help it if I live in a town full of good looking guys?"

Steve rolled his eyes as he headed for his bedroom. "What's for dinner? I'm starved."

Dinner. Dinner! "Oh, crap!" Sam muttered as he shot to his feet. "I almost forgot!"

"What, Sam?" Dean peered up at him. "What's wrong?"

"I, uh, made dinner plans," he explained hurriedly. "I better go."

"Sam?" Dean's voice had the reminder tone. "Don't forget."

Now what did he forget? Sam waited for his brother to elaborate.

"Pipes?" The look on Dean's face begged him to remember.

Sam felt some heat in his cheeks. "Yeah, no problem," he said hurriedly. "But I better go now. Later, guys!"

Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala in his rush to leave, forgetting to ask Dean about it.

"Better get a room!" Dean shouted after him. "Don't you dare do anything in my car!"

Sam paused at the front door to shoot Dean a nasty look before leaving. Well, at least he had permission to use the car. It was implied. Sam pulled out his cell as he raced for the garage. By the time he was backing down the driveway past Steve's car, he could hear the ringing of the other phone.

"I'm not off shift yet," Serene said by way of greeting. "Can you call back in half an hour?"

"Nope," Sam replied with a silly grin spreading over his face. "I need to know what you'd like to eat tonight."

"Tonight? But why... You're here?!" She sounded excited. How awesome was that?

"Yep, I'm here," Sam confirmed, "and you promised me a date. Just the two of us, alone, with food. So, what do you want to eat? I need to order it."

"Well, uh," Serene stammered. "I don't know. I mean, I didn't know you were back. I'm not going to have time to get ready."

Sam headed for the street where nearly every sit-down restaurant was in this town, locally called Restaurant Row.

"If you don't pick, I'll have to pick for you," he threatened, knowing how she hated giving up control.

"Can't we just decide when you pick me up?" Serene asked. "After I change, I'll have a better idea."

"Nope," Sam stated flatly, enjoying messing with her mind immensely. "You don't need to change, no one is going to see you. Just us, remember?"

"Uh, well..." Serene sounded pretty flustered. Sam took pride in that. How many people could get her flustered? He would be willing to bet he could count them up on one hand, and have fingers left over. "You won't mind that I'll be dressed for work?"

Actually, if things went down the way Sam hoped, she wouldn't stay dressed at all. "Nope. Not at all. So? Decide yet?" He needed to make a turn soon.

"Uh, spaghetti?" She said hesitantly.

"Okay," Sam replied agreeably as he made the turn into her favorite restaurant. "I'll see you in half an hour?"

"Yeah, great." Serene hung up.

Well, she was probably busy with customers. No problem. She never got upset when she called him and Sam had to either put her on hold or call her back because he was in the middle of 'something.' Fair was fair. They both had jobs to do.

It only took a few minutes to place their to-go order, which would be ready in about fifteen minutes. That gave him just enough time for part two of his plan. Sam drove a few more streets over to the nicer of the two motels in town. He rented a room for the night, paying cash of course, and using an alias. Serene would kill him if word got around town that Sam Winchester got a room for the night. Fortunately he had never met the guy working in the motel office, so they were still incognito. Dean's car might give him away later, but people might think Dean and Frank were trying to get kicked out again. Yeah, he'd better park it way in back.

From the trunk, Sam took out a large brown paper bag. He carried it to the room he had rented. Fortunately, like most motel rooms across the country, it had a table designed to accommodate at least two people. From his bag, Sam pulled out a red and white checked tablecloth. He spread it over the table. Next he set out two candles, unlit. Some silk flowers in a silver-ish bowl was his centerpiece. He hoped Serene didn't think it was too cheesy. If he had to admit where he got the idea, he was probably toast. Well, the most romantic movie he had ever sat all the way through was _Lady and the Tramp_. Was that a crime?

He checked his watch again. Five minutes until the food was ready and ten for Serene. He could pick up the food on the way and set it out after they arrived. That would give him a little over five minutes to put part one of Dean's advice in play. Shit. Could he really 'clean the pipes' in only five minutes or so?

Ah, hell. It was worth a shot. Sam rummaged in his bag, feeling like a total moron. If Dean was messing with him, the instant that baby was born Sam would strangle his brother. He found the flavored lube. He paused with it in his hand. It was Jess' favorite flavor. Sam had grabbed it automatically in the store. Shit. The last thing he wanted to think about tonight was Jess. Instantly he was no longer in the mood.

Sam tried to shake the morose thoughts from his head. This was a new start, a new beginning. Serene was nothing like her. They were apples and oranges, comparisons were impossible. Sam filled his thoughts with images of Serene, the haughty way she carried herself, how she didn't take any grief from anyone, how protective she was of her friends and her town. He smiled when he remembered the way she ran off that bitch who tried to embarrass Dean at the bar on his anniversary. Sam dropped the lube in a waste basket on his way to the bathroom. He could definitely manage without. As he stood over the toilet and unzipped his pants, releasing his hard cock, more images of Serene flooded his mind. As his hand started pumping, he thought of her voice, how sweet and sexy it could be on the phone. He loved the way her hair escaped in thin wisps when she pulled her hair back. He wondered how good she would feel under him, or more likely, on top of him. Sam gasped as the orgasm tore through him with that thought. He opened his eyes to pump his release into the toilet.

Shit. As Sam reached for the toilet paper, he checked his watch. That took all of two minutes. Shaking his head, he was glad for Dean's advice. It had been a long time. If he'd only lasted maybe two minutes, it would have been downright embarrassing. Now he'd last at least five. Snorting with laughter over his own joke, Sam flushed the toilet and zipped his pants back up. He washed his hands before heading back out the door.

With their food safely in the back seat, Sam leaned against the car waiting in the diner parking lot for Serene. She looked harried as she rushed towards him. "Are you sure I don't have time to change?" she demanded.

Sam smiled broadly at her. "Nope." He liked having the upper hand for a change. Usually she was the one barking orders. She stood uncertainly before him, like she could not make up her mind whether or not she wanted to hug him. Sam made the decision for her, leaning over to wrap his arms around her and pressing her chest against his. He stood up straight, lifting her with him. Grinning at her surprised expression, Sam held her tight and walked her over to the passenger side of the car. "Consider yourself abducted for the evening," he said.

Serene rolled her eyes at him as he set her gently back on her feet. "Think you're pretty cute, don't you?"

Sam's grin broadened. "Well, this chick Peaches keeps telling me I am."

Serene barked out a laugh as she slipped into the passenger seat. After Sam got in on the driver's side and started the car, Serene joined in his game. "So should I be worried? About Peaches?"

"Yep," he replied playfully, "she's a real sweetie." He winked at her. "Good looking, too."

Serene slid across the seat to sit right next to him. "So where are we going?" she asked. "Because I can't think of any place where I won't stand out in this stupid outfit." She waved a hand over her waitress uniform.

Sam chuckled at her. "What's wrong with it? I think it's kind of sexy."

"Yeah, well, you're a pervert," Serene snapped at him. "Who the hell would find this sexy?"

Sam grinned again. "Maybe it's not the outfit I'm worried about." He pulled in at the motel. "Come on, we're here."

Serene stepped out of the car with a suspicious look on her face. "Here? We're eating at the motel?"

"It's the nice one!" Sam said defensively as he grabbed their food from the back seat. He walked around to where she was glaring at the boring white building. Pressing a hand against her cheek, he whispered, "Hey, trust me?"

She closed her eyes as she leaned into his palm. Well, hell, if that wasn't just about the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. When she opened her eyes, Serene held his hand and allowed him to led her to the room.

"Well, now I know why you weren't worried about what I wore," she said as he opened the door. "But why were you in such an all-fired hurry?"

Sam pushed the door open to reveal the table he had set up. As he set out their food and lit the candles, he explained. "Well, for one thing, I haven't seen you in almost a week. For another, I didn't want you getting a better offer."

He turned around from lighting the candles to nearly fall over her, Serene was standing so close. "I don't think I could," she stated. "But I would have felt better wearing something at least a little more appealing than this."

Sam shrugged as he put away his lighter. "You can eat naked. Doesn't bother me."

Her laughter filled the room. What a sweet sound. "Asshole," she said as she slid into the opposite chair. She rested her chin on her hands. "So? Are we eating here or what?"

"One thing first," he told her. "Give me your cell." With a frown, she handed it over. Sam turned it off before setting it on top of the dresser. Then he took out his cell and powered it down too. It went right next to hers. "Every time we go out, we run into someone you know and spend half the night talking to them. Tonight is just us." Her beaming smile made all of his efforts worth it.

It was one of the most pleasant meals Sam had had in a very long time. They talked about everything and nothing at all. Before he knew it, two hours had gone by.

"Is that the time?" Serene demanded as she looked at her watch. "I should go home and get to bed. I have to work tomorrow."

"What shift?" Sam asked, hoping it was not the early one.

"Lunch." She planted her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. God, that was sexy. "Why?"

Sam smiled at her again. "You don't need to go to bed early to work the lunch shift. Why not stay here for a while?"

Serene glanced around the room. "I don't know, Sam. I mean, this has been really great. I'm really enjoying myself, but..." she swallowed hard as her eyes darted down to the table. Her other hand traced the checked pattern.

"But what?" Sam asked gently. He took the hand fingering the tablecloth in his. "What's wrong?"

Her cheeks reddened and she did not look up. "It's been a while," she whispered.

The last piece of the puzzle snapped into place. Now he understood why she was always insisting on going to public places, rarely allowing them time alone even for a walk in the park.

"Almost a year for me," Sam informed her as he stroked her hand. "But it's fine, Serene. Honest. If you don't want to do anything, that's perfectly fine." Her head lifted a little, revealing just how beet-red her face was. He tried to give her a reassuring smile.

"Can we just hug, maybe? Or make-out?" Now she laughed at him.

"Because I could really go for a steamy make-out session," he added with a broader grin.

Serene rolled her eyes at him. "You make us sound like a couple of teenagers."

"So?" he demanded. "What's wrong with that?" Sam stood and hauled her to her feet. He led her over to the bed where she stood stiffly, her hand fidgeting. Sam sat and pulled her down to sit next to him. He leaned in and she did not pull away. He captured her lips in a gentle kiss, not wanting to frighten her. Soon she was kissing him back, her lips and hands demanding more. Sam was happy to oblige.

Just when she was starting to get carried away, much to Sam's delight, Serene pulled away. "I-I can't. It's been too long," she panted. Her eyes filled with tears. "You'll hate me."

"No, no," he whispered, running passionate kisses along her jaw, "never. It's okay. It's okay." She didn't pull away. After a few moments, Serene tilted her head so he could continue kissing down her neck. Sam paused as a new idea struck him. Maybe he was approaching this wrong. He needed to use more of Dean's 'screaming his name' advice.

"What's wrong?" she asked and he didn't like the fearful note in her voice.

"Nothing," he assured her quickly. "I just had an idea." Sam moved off the bed to kneel in front of her on the floor. He ran a hand along her neck down inside her shirt, stopping just short of her breasts. "Can I please you?" he asked softly. "All you'll have to do is lie there." Sam grinned at her. "And maybe moan a little when you like something."

The skin between her eyebrows crinkled as she studied him. "Really?" Her breath hitched as she stared at him. "You'd do that?"

For an answer, Sam followed the path his hand just went with his mouth. This time, instead of stopping, he mouthed down into her bra. His hands swiftly reached around to unzip her uniform in the back, pulling it off as he brought them back around. Her bra was plain off-white and slightly discolored from excessive use. Serene worked for a living. He pulled one of the straps off her shoulder to reveal her perky, fleshy mound. Sam sucked along it gently until her nipple was in his mouth. Then he sucked harder, his actions accompanied by soft moans from Serene.

"Oh..." she breathed as he ran his tongue around her sensitive aureole. "Oh, baby."

Sam froze. Images of Jess flashed painfully through his mind, stealing his breath, until the final one of her burning on the ceiling had tears streaking down his face.

"Sam!" Serene's hands caressed his cheeks gently and fluttering kisses landed along his jaw. "Sam?"

He took a deep breath, attempting to regain some control. "I'm sorry," he whispered, surprised to find that he needed to force his eyes to look at her. "I'm so sorry."

"What is it?" she demanded. "What happened?" She wiped the tears from his cheeks. He had never really cried for Jess, not really. Now the tears flowed like Niagra Falls. It was beyond embarrassing.

Serene pulled him to sit next to her. He could speak yet, it all felt too raw. She wrapped her arms around him and gently coaxed him down to the bed. He was still crying against her bare chest, his body pressed tight to hers. All he could do was mumble "sorry...so sorry." Serene held him tight and stroked his hair until he calmed.

When his breathing returned to an even, regular rate, Sam wondered how the hell he could explain. "Sam?" Serene asked in a very soft voice. "Feeling better?"

He tightened his arms around her as he nodded.

Serene held him tighter. "Can you tell me what happened? I mean, I've heard of guys crying during sex, but I don't think that's what they meant."

He chuckled against her chest, one warm breast under his chin as her heart beat steadily under his ear. "I'm sorry. I never thought... I thought I was over her."

Serene wriggled down until he had to look her in the face. "Over who?" she asked. A thin smile appeared. "I'd like to know."

Sam sighed as he brushed a sexy wisp of hair out of her face. "Jess. She used to call me baby. I guess when you said it..." He swallowed past the huge lump in his throat. "I guess I'm not as over her as I thought." He rolled up on one elbow to look down at her. "I'm sorry. I really wanted this to be a special evening. For us."

Serene gave him a small but sincere smile. "I'd like to hear about my competition. Tell me about her. Where is she?"

"Dead," he whispered as one finger traced along Serene's cheek. "She was soft and sweet and loved to study and party." He smiled at her. "But I'll bet she never would have had the guts to run someone out of town." Sam planted a lingering kiss near her ear. "Or refuse to sell my dad her world famous pie." He made his way down her face toward the jaw. "Definitely didn't have your sense of humor." He headed down her neck, kissing and suckling the skin along the way. Finally he was back at the point where he had been interrupted. He moved to the other breast this time, determined to make them both forget his horrible, embarrassing lapse.

"Oooohhh..." Serene moaned under him, her fingers winding in his hair. "Oooohhh, b-ssssssssaaaaaammm..." He grinned with a mouthful of her breast, pausing to rub the sensitive nipple with his tongue. Her head dropped back, eyes closed, and she moaned with pleasure. "Sssssaaammmm-mmmmmmyyy."

Sam paused, but only for a moment. At least his horrible childhood nickname didn't bring back memories of his dead girlfriend. Serene deserved a lot more than this for putting up with his emotional crap. Sam released her breast to work quickly down to her waist. He pulled the uniform down and off her legs. Underneath she only wore pantyhose. With a grin at her, Sam pulled them off so Serene was completely naked on the bed.

He crawled back up to her face to capture her mouth in a lingering, passionate kiss. "So," Serene said when they broke apart, "you love my sense of humor?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. I love pretty much everything about you."

He ignored the way her eyes widened and the shocked look on her face. "And now I'm going to try to make you forget your own name." He grinned wickedly at her before making his way back down her body with suckling kisses and stroking fingers.

Finally he reached his goal. First he stroked his fingers through her curly black pubic hair. Her hips rose to meet his hand and Sam grinned. This was going pretty well. Now if Dean was serious, Serene was in for a really good time. Sam used his thumbs to press apart the outer, hairy walls, revealing soft wet pinkness. Still holding her open to his greedy gaze, Sam used one finger to slip into her wetness and rub it all around her clit. Serene moaned and spread her legs open wider.

"Don't...have...to," she panted at him.

For an answer, Sam laid down between her legs and placed his mouth directly over the highly sensitive nub. He took it into this mouth, sucking gentler than he had her breasts. Using his tongue, he swept around it several times until he again heard "Saaaaaammmmmy." Satisfied that they were finally on the right track, Sam imagined what a good blow job felt like. He sucked hard and then soft on her clit trying to simulate an intense head-bob. It seemed to be working, if her moans were to be believed, not to mention the legs now wrapped around his neck.

While his mouth was still working her clit, Sam slipped two fingers deep inside her wet heat. Jesus, her juices were dripping out on to the comforter. She had to be close. He finger-fucked her harder as he swirled his tongue again. Serene gasped and lifted her hips to meet his hand. A little faster and harder and her whole body writhed on the bed, hips thrusting against his mouth and hand. With a primal cry, her muscles pulsed around his fingers and fresh juices dribbled down to his wrist. Sam lifted his mouth from her to gaze at her face. She was looking at him and breathing hard, those sexy wisps of hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks with sweat.

"Be right back," he whispered. Sam rushed to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth and wash her juices from his chin.

When he came back, Serene had a pissy look on her face. "What was that all about?" she demanded. He enjoyed the fact she sounded breathless.

"Just wanted to rinse out my mouth," he explained as he pressed his lips against hers. "So I can do this." As his kissed her, and explored her mouth with his tongue, he felt her hands tugging at his shirt. Sam stopped to pull the shirt off over his head, tossing it off to the side. Serene smiled at him and pulled him back down to her.

Hands strong from carrying trays filled with food and wiping down tables reached into his pants. Sam gasped when she grabbed his hard cock. "Want something?" he whispered.

Serene grinned and gripped harder.

Sam smiled back. "So you're not afraid of me anymore?"

She shrugged as she tugged at the clasp of his jeans. "Well, I already made you cry. Guess I can't do any worse, huh?" Her lips were hot against his neck. "But I can make it up to you."

Oh, Sam liked the sound of that. "Hang on." He started to roll away, but Serene rolled with him. She sat on his stomach and glared down at him. "And where do you think you're going, Sam Winchester?"

"No where," he protested. "I have some condoms in that bag." Sam waved at his paper sack on the other side of the bed.

"Forget it," she growled as she shifted further down. "You're clean, right? You said it's been about a year."

Sam nodded, brow creasing.

"More like four or five years for me," Serene told him. Jesus! No wonder she was so nervous! "And I'm on the pill." She leaned down to work her tongue slowly along his jaw. "I don't like the feel of rubber. I can get that at home."

Sam chuckled at her. "You know, if you ever want to bring it along, we could probably find some use for it."

Serene shifted down on his legs. She yanked open his jeans and managed to push them partially over his hips, enough to allow his cock to spring free. Her hot hand ran down his length before she shifted back over him, running her wet heat over his cock. Sam groaned as he grasped her hips.

"Why are you on the pill?" he asked, trying to concentrate on anything which would prevent him from spilling right now. "You said it's been five years."

Those cute pink highlights appeared in Serene's cheeks again. "I got a new prescription after I found out you moved in with Frank and Dean."

Sam beamed up at her. "No kidding?" The pink deepened to the sexiest shade of light red. Sam shifted underneath her, hands guiding her hips firmly. He grunted as he felt his dick slip inside. God, she was freaking tight! He tried some deeper thrusts, but he couldn't quite get all the way in. Serene gave him a strange look.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she demanded. "What is it?"

He took one of her hands and wound it around the base of his penis. With his other hand he encouraged her to lift off and then go down on him again. Her jaw dropped open and her head dipped down between them to look. She went up and down on him again.

"Good god," she breathed when she lifted her head. "That's like two more inches!" Serene took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "Okay, honey," she said as a determined look came over her face, "hang on."

Sam had no idea what she meant by that, but he tightened his grip on her hips. Serene lifted up and plunged down, hard. She gasped but Sam did not feel he was any deeper. When she did it again, Serene straightened her whole body so her full weight came down on Sam. They both gasped as he pressed hard inside her. Sam felt her body open and stretch around him as the delicious heat and warmth completely enveloped him. Sam tightened his fingers on her hips, not wanting her to move yet. The slightest movement and they would have to take a break for a while. He was breathing heavy when she leaned over to kiss him again. Sam lost himself in the passionate kiss, not noticing right away when Serene started pumping up and down on him.

He thrust up into her and ran his hands over her back and tight ass. She started slow, each time he was fully inside her causing this amazing gasping sound to come from her. When she became more used to the feeling, Serene pumped harder on him. She alternated between sitting up while she thrust down and leaning over to dominate his mouth. God, this was better than anything Sam had imagined.

When her thrusts and breaths became erratic and Sam felt her pulsing around him, Sam turned them over, which was a chore considering his legs were still hobbled together by his jeans around his thighs. He was nearly there. He thrust into Serene's tight, wet, pulsing heat and nearly lost his mind. Responding only to purely primal urges, Sam plunged into her again and again until the sensations and feelings were overwhelming. Her nails scratched down his back, sending him over the edge. He pumped his release into her.

He pulled his limp cock out of her and stretched out next to her on the bed. Sam finished peeling his pants off before scooting closer, wanting to feel her beside him. He pulled her closer so her head rested on his shoulder and her panting breath was hot and moist on his sweaty skin. It took a few minutes for them to catch their breath.

Light fingertips trailed over his sweaty chest. "Amazing," she whispered. "I had no idea."

Sam grinned at the top of her head. "Then your ex must have really sucked."

Serene chuckled against his chest. "Or didn't suck enough."

"Yeah?" Sam lifted her chin so he could kiss her again. "Liked that, did you?"

"Mmmm," she groaned into his mouth. "Please," Serene said they parted, "tell me we have the room for the night."

Sam laughed at her as he caressed her face. "They don't rent by the hour in towns like this." He breathed in the scents from her hair. "And checkout isn't until eleven."

She wrapped one leg over his. "Good," Serene said in a sleepy voice. "Night, Sammy."

Sam kissed the top of her head. "Night, sweetie."


	35. Chapter 35

Sorry for the slow update!! I'm doing the nano thing this year and got all caught up in some orig fiction. Guess I shoulda warned you! Sorry!!

Chapter 35

Sam woke with a warm body next to him and a head with dark messy hair cutting off all the circulation in his arm. He tried using his live arm to roll Serene away, but she crawled in closer. So Sam tried a different tactic, he moved her off his arm on to his chest.

"So glad you're back," she mumbled.

Sam's mouth went a little dry. "Uh, Serene? Sweetie? About that." He cleared his throat. "I got back yesterday."

Her body stiffened and her head lifted. Sleep bleary eyes met his. "Excuse me?"

"Well, uh," Sam really did not want to be in trouble, not now. Well, that was pretty much the reason he chose to mention it while they were both still naked. "See, Dean took Frank on a job, which was a bad idea, considering his heart condition, among other things. Then when we got back, Dean was acting really weird and sleeping all the time and I didn't want to leave-"

His hurried explanation was cut off by Serene's hand over his mouth. "Sam. Shut up." She snuggled up again and laid her head back on his chest. "Are they all right? Dean and Frank?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted. "I think so." As he stroked her hair he found himself also admitting what had been bugging him all day yesterday. "Dean kind of scared me, though. All he did yesterday was sleep, and when he was awake he wasn't himself, more like he was sleep-walking."

Serene kissed his chest, her body shifting to be more on him than beside. "Did they get it?" she asked between kisses.

"Amazingly, yes, they did." Sam shook his head at the thought. "I still can't believe it."

She paused to look at him. "I can. You didn't see Frank outside the diner that day." Her wide eyes had a distant look. "I think he'd do anything for Dean." Serene focused back on him.

"Apparently." Sam ran his fingers through her tousled hair. "I love your hair like this."

She rolled her eyes. "Changing the subject already? I figured I had at least one more comment before you'd do that."

Sam shrugged at her. "Honestly, I'm still getting used to the idea of the two of them. Together." He chuckled suddenly. "Did you know Frank actually called me, of all people, when he was late for their special anniversary dinner?"

Serene grinned at him. "You told me." She crawled up to lay a wet trail along his jaw.

"I, uh, take it we're done sleeping? For now?" Sam asked as she crawled on top of him.

"Sam?" Serene pulled back to give him the icy stare he had been expecting earlier. "Consider this a warning. Don't you dare come back to town without calling me again. We don't have to get together right away, especially if there's something going on with your family, but I expect a god-damned phone call."

Sam nodded, though he felt his hope this was the worst of it was probably futile.

"Good." She gave him a single nod before returning her attention to his jaw.

"W-wait," Sam protested as he pushed her up where he could see her face. "That's it? Just a warning?"

"Oh, ba-" Her cheeks flooded with color. "Sammy." She flashed him a quick smile. "How much of a bitch do you think I am?"

What the hell? Sam pushed up to a sit, positioning her in his lap, Serene's legs stretched out on each side of him. He ran his hands up her back to grasp both shoulders at the same time. "You're not holding back on me, are you?" He engulfed her mouth with his, all teeth and tongue and lips battling for dominance which neither was willing to give.

"Try it again," Serene promised in a breathless voice when they broke apart, "and see how much slack you get."

Now that was more like it. "All right then," he said and rolled her under him. "How about I make it up to you? What would you like?"

Her cheeks flushed bright pink again and Sam had a pretty good idea but he wanted to make her ask for it. Actually, he wanted her to direct him.

"What do I do first?" he demanded, one hand running sensually along the outside of her thigh. "Better tell me."

Sam delighted in the deepening hue of her cheeks as her hands moved to guide his face away from hers, down to her chest. He let her guide him to her breast where he suckled until she gasped and her hips thrust up at his abdomen. Sam held her nipple between his teeth, nibbling very gently as he waited for new direction. Panting, Serene ran her hands through his hair as she pushed him further down.

"Like last time," she said in a breathless voice which sent him reeling. "But..."

Sam paused in his trek down to look her in the eye. "But what?"

Her face reddened as she glanced away. He crawled back over her to cup her face with one hand. "What do you want, sweetie? Anything. You name it."

"You won't, uh, think I'm weird?" Her voice was weak and hesitant.

Sam chuckled at her. "You've met my family. How could you possibly be weird in comparison?" He gazed deep in her eyes. "What is it?"

Serene shrugged and Sam felt one of her hands wrap around his cock. "It probably won't fit all the way there either," she whispered as her thumb rubbed along the crown, eliciting a groan from him.

Sam took a deep breath before he nodded. He started to move, but both her hands tightened, the one on his dick and the one in his hair. "Get on your back," she whispered.

Sam nodded again and her hands released him. He laid on the other side of the bed and waited to see what she had in mind. Serene's cheeks were bright red, but he hoped that meant they were both in for a good time. She crawled over him so her mouth was over his cock and her tantalizing pussy over his face. He waited to see if she would start first, and she did. She took just the end of his shaft in her mouth, her tongue swirling all around the crown. Sam moaned as he ran his hands up her thighs to rest on her hips. He pulled her down to his mouth. She laid splayed out before him, her stomach on his chest and hips raised enough to give him access. He watched the back of her head for a moment as she bobbed down on him. Jesus, it felt so damned good. God, it had been way too long. Why had Dean kept this place a secret?

As Sam ran his tongue along her opening and felt her body shiver in anticipation, he made a mental note to chew Dean out for waiting so frigging long. This time he thrust his tongue in again and again, until she started responding by thrusting back against his face. Sam rolled them so they were on their sides, giving him a little more control. He held her hips firm as he fucked her with his tongue. Her legs were clamped to each side of his face. Despite the fact he was assaulted with so many sensations and emotions right now, Dean's advice came to him with startling clarity. 'You can jerk her off.' No shit? Sam paused for a moment to slip two fingers in her. When they were good and wet, he took them out and laid them on each side of her clit. Resuming his tongue fucking, Sam began to slowly pump her clit up and down. At first it didn't seem to make a difference, but after a while Serene began to whine with her mouth still around him. The whine went right through his dick, making him want to thrust hard.

Sam pulled his mouth away to gasp when she whined again, but he kept the pace on her clit steady. Her hips jerked again and another whine shot through him. Sam closed his eyes, knowing he could come already. In an attempt to distract himself, Sam plunged back to his duties and shoved his tongue in as far as he could. Serene responded with another noise, one deeper and more demanding and it caused a stronger vibration to rip through his cock. He moved his hand out of the way to suck hard on her clit, wanting her to come good and hard NOW.

Her cries were muffled by his shaft in her mouth, but she sped up his blowjob for which he was immensely grateful. He was working so hard to make her orgasm, Sam did not have time to warn her before he came. She seemed to know, though, and pulled off just in time. Serene jerked him off while her hips plunged at his face. She gasped out as he suckled at her pleasure center. Sam was shocked when the small nub felt like it grew in his mouth, making it easier to please. Maybe it really was like a tiny penis?

She just seemed to go on and on, riding his mouth. Sam slipped his finger inside her at one point, curious, and all of her sensitive flesh was pulsing dramatically. Then her mouth was back on him though his penis was still limp. Despite the fact it had to be a lost cause, Serene kept working at him. Then Sam felt some life stir and blood once again rushing below his waist. When he wanted nothing more than to pump into her, Serene pulled off. The look in her eyes said 'Now.'

Sam tackled her onto her back, their heads at the foot of the bed now. He shoved inside her. Once again he had a couple of extra inches. "Hang on," he whispered before plunging in hard. This time he slipped all the way in and Serene gasped. She pulsed all around him and, shit, this was freaking amazing.

"Okay?" Sam panted, wanting to move but not daring.

Serene's beautiful eyes opened and she nodded at him. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

Sam grinned before setting a slow deliberate pace, one he hoped would tease her half out of her mind and have her coming again before he lost it. Then he felt her clenching around his cock and her body shook with the most amazing shudders. The noises she made would embarrass a porn star. Sam couldn't fight that. He pumped in hard, his thrusts erratic and his mind filled with only Need and Want. She drained him within her. Sam laid across her body for a long moment, just breathing.

"Sam?" Serene asked.

He pushed up on one elbow to look her in the face. "Wow," he breathed with a grin.

"Why do you call me sweetie?" she asked and one hand ran through his hair.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath before attempting to answer. "Because you are."

Serene shook her head. Her hair was a horrible mess, sticking straight out unless it was plastered to her skin with sweat. She definitely looked 'just fucked.' He loved it.

"Sam, I'm a complete bitch. Ask anyone." Serene sighed. "I just don't want you to get the wrong idea about me."

Sam chuckled at her. "I know that." He smiled as he ran a hand along her bare sweaty flesh. "You're my sweetie, not theirs."

Her wide eyes blinked up at him, reminding Sam of an owl. "Oh," she breathed softly. "So you don't... I mean I don't..." Serene shook her head at him. "I won't embarrass you?"

Sam leaned back down to kiss gently just under her jaw. "Never," he whispered into her skin. Now he had a better idea of what Dean meant about Frankie not trying to change him. How many men had tried to change Serene? Sam raised up again so he could see her eyes when he told her this. "And don't you dare try to change on me."

A real smile, broad and bright as summer sunlight, beamed at him. "Okay, Sammy."

Sam grinned back at her. "I bought some toothbrushes and toothpaste too. Let's go break them in because I think you still owe me a make-out session."

Serene's laughter rippled through his chest as even her eyes grinned at him.

* * *

"He's where?" Frank demanded. "You can't be serious, Dean! Didn't you talk to him?"

"Yeah. I talked to him." Dean glanced away evasively, running a finger along the edge of the kitchen counter.

"And? Didn't he believe you?" Frank tried to catch any emotion which might flicker across Dean's face.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he believed me." Dean chuckled softly, looking kind of pleased. Now that did not look like having the 'back off Serene because she's a bitch' speech reaction.

Frank crossed his arms over his chest to glare. "Dean? Which talk, exactly, did you have with Sam?"

Dean gave him this wide-eyed innocent look, so of course whatever he said next would be a lie. "The talk you told me to have with him."

"When?" Frank asked, his anger rising. Sure Serene had tried making nice with him again, in between all the other excitement in his life lately, but Frank didn't like the idea of her dating his brother-in-law. He saw the mess she made of Steve before his friend finally broke up with her. At the time Frank hadn't blamed either of them for it and had figured the couple just hadn't been meant to be. Since he found out she kept in touch with Jake after...the incident...Frank had started believing Steve's side of things more.

Dean snagged a fresh apple out of the bowl on the counter. "When you asked me to," he said before taking a large bite.

"That was weeks ago, Dean," Frank replied. "What talk did you have with him recently? The one where he listened?"

Dean's face split in a wide grin as he crunched the apple. Frank had a sinking feeling. "Please don't tell me it was the talk about girls."

The shrug and mischievous glint in his eye said it all.

Frank sunk into a chair at the table. "Shit. It's too late for Sam, isn't it?"

"I don't suppose you want the tips?" Dean asked with a sly grin. "Might help."

"Oh, really?" Frank glared up at the apple crunching jerk. "I need help?"

Dean moved closer, his expanding stomach in Frank's face. "Maybe," he said softly, "to keep me in line."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Oh, please." He waved at Dean to sit. "You don't think you're getting off that easy?"

Dean shrugged as he took another large bite of apple. "Worth a try," he mumbled through his full mouth.

"Why?" Frank asked. "Why the hell would you be behind this? You know what Serene is like."

Dean's head shook as he swallowed. "Dude, all I know is she makes awesome pie and won't sell it to you or any member of your family if she's pissed at you." He shrugged. "Besides, I can't remember ever seeing Sam this happy."

"Knock, knock!" John's voice blared from the front of the house.

"Kitchen!" Dean shouted as he threw his apple core at the kitchen trash can. It banged victoriously inside.

John's head of dishevelled hair poked into the kitchen. "Hey, guys. I'm going to grab a shower and a nap. How're things here? Anything I need to know."

"Everything's fine, Dad," Dean said, maybe a bit forcefully.

John frowned and stepped into the kitchen. "What's going on?" His tone was low, suspicious.

Frank plastered on his best smile. "Nothing, John. Should be plenty of hot water. I promise not to start any laundry until you're out this time."

John's gaze lingered on Dean before shooting Frank a questioning look. He was clearly worried there was something wrong with Dean. Frank shook his head and John let out a breath of relief before heading for the front bedrooms. "Wake me for dinner!" His voice shouted at them.

"What was all that?" Dean asked, waving a hand between Frank and the spot where John had been standing.

"Nothing," Frank replied with a shrug. "Want another apple?"

Dean's green highbeams landed on him. "Have you called yet?"

"Who? Work?" Frank asked, hoping that was what Dean meant but knowing better, especially after the chewing out from his sister first thing this morning. Dean had just disappeared during all that, too. When Lisa had started in on him for saying something along the lines of Dean needing to keep his big mouth shut, he learned real fast that when it came to his health, his spouse and his sister were on the same side. It was still his side, if he squinted his eyes and stood on his head when he looked at it. He had not known Dean felt guilty for the heart attack, though. That had been news.

Dean's hot glare interrupted his thoughts. "Don't make me call Lisa," he threatened.

Frank sighed as he avoided Dean's gaze. "I called yesterday," he replied softly, recognizing Dean's guilt in the response. "My appointment is for tomorrow, if you want to come."

Dean's hand, sticky from the apple, rested on top of his. Frank looked up into a small but warm smile. "Yeah, I want to come. You big idiot."

Frank found himself smiling back. "Well, with a nut like you around, I'm never sure."

Dean snorted as the hand left Frank's to slap him playfully in the shoulder. "Yeah, real brave when you know you can outrun me." He jerked his head toward the fridge. "So are we eating or what?"

Frank paused with his hand on the handle of the refrigerator door. "Dean? You know, I think I like that girl name you came up with."

"Which one?" Dean leaned back in the office chair to prop his feet up on one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

Frank smiled broadly. "The one where we name her after both our siblings."

Dean laughed as he rocked backwards. "Thank God," he said with a bright grin. "I was afraid you liked the Johnathina one. That was a joke, by the way."

Frank knew he was too far away for any immediate retaliation, so he felt quite safe as he replied, "Really?"

When the apple pelted him in the arm, Frank was not really surprised. The best part of this pregnancy was the fact Dean was starting to waddle. Oh, how he wished he could tease Dean about it, but Frank did not have a death wish. He really did have a doctor's appointment tomorrow.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

"No!" Frank raged as soon as he heard the news. "Absolutely not! No way in hell!"

Sam's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide, but Frank really didn't care.

"Now, Frankie," Dean started and sounded way too calm for Frank's liking. Obviously they had already discussed this. Without him.

"Don't you 'Now Frankie' me!" he shouted, pointing a finger in Dean's face. "You know how I feel about that bitch, and I don't want her in my family's house!"

Dean jerked his head at Sam. It took Sam a moment to respond, which he did by leaving the house.

"Now, Baby," Dean started and Frank knew he was in real trouble now. So far Dean had only used 'baby' to get a smile or some extra attention, never to get his way. Well, to be fair, Dean usually didn't need to find a method to get his way around Frank. Frank typically went out of his way to make sure Dean got whatever he wanted, mainly because he knew Dean never expected it.

"Damn it, Dean!" he just could not keep his voice down about this one. "It's bad enough Sam's dating her, I don't want her in my parent's house."

"Dad and Bobby aren't real thrilled either, but they promised to behave." His mossy green eyes fixed on Frank. "And so did Steve."

Now that stole a whole lot of Frank's thunder. "Steve?" he demanded. "Steve is okay with this?"

Dean shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know. But he said as long as Serene didn't start anything with him, he wouldn't have a problem with her being there." He moved close enough to run a hand up Frank's arm. "Baby, nobody wants to make you uncomfortable, okay? But Sam is really serious about her and at some point we're going to have to start mixing her in. Why wait?"

Frank crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "Why not wait?"

Now both of Dean's hands were on him, turning his head to face his spouse. "Because, Baby, there isn't always a later." He sighed then. "Dad and Sam have a hunt planned. They're only sticking around for this early Thanksgiving thing and then they're gone for who knows how long."

Frank felt his resistance crumpling. "Really? You mean, this is your family's big day, too?"

Now Dean grinned at him. "And it's kind of our first one. Well, the first one with all three of us, at the same time, and an actual turkey." He shrugged off the shocked look Frank had to be giving him now. "Dude, usually we had something I could cook. I never really graduated up from Hamburger Helper or stuff in a can. Besides, hasn't Serene been making nice? I'm telling you, she won some major points with me the day she took one look at what that bastard did to you and ran out in tears."

Frank studied Dean's face carefully. "Well, you sure didn't seem to appreciate it at the time."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Are you really going to analyze this to death? Tell you what, talk to Steve. He's your best friend. But Frankie, if Serene isn't welcome then Sam won't feel welcome, and I think you already know how I feel about that." Dean's fingers were lightly massaging his face and neck.

And now all of Frank's walls were down. "Fine," he sighed, "she can come."

It was kind of worth it to see Dean's face light up like that. "You're sure? I can go tell Sam that you're not going to keel over or have a stroke or anything?"

Frank nodded and felt Dean's hands drop down to squeeze his shoulders. Dean turned away and walked, no – waddled to the back door. Yep, Dean had a definite waddle now, and it was kind of cute. Frank wouldn't admit that for anything in the world, though. He preferred maintaining the ability to breathe.

* * *

Sam sat outside nervously, one knee bouncing high into the air. Serene had tried to warn him, didn't even want to go really, but Sam had insisted. Good grief, why couldn't he just listen for a change? Why did he always press for things to be the way he wanted?

He threw his head back to glare up at the sky, allowing the bright fall sunlight to temporarily blind him. Was it because he thought he knew so much better than everyone else, or simply because they had been denied so much during their childhood that Sam was still trying to make up for it? What ever. Like the why mattered. What really mattered was if this would come between Dean and Frank, or worse, him and Dean. Yeah, he would have to back down on bringing Serene around if it started to drive a wedge between him and his brother. Dean really didn't deserve that. Dean had already put up with a lot, a LOT, of Sam's crap. He really didn't need Sam interfering in his personal relationships too.

Shit.

The sound of the back door opening made Sam lift his head. Dean, looking pretty frigging round these days, was heading his way with a beaming smile. Holy crap, he got Frank to agree!

"Really?" Sam asked hopefully.

Dean nodded. "Yep. But no upstaging Frankie's sister. I mean it, Sam. I don't even want Serene to bring a pie; that's kind of Lisa's thing, even though they're always terrible."

Sam let out the air which had been trapped painfully in the center of his chest. "No problem," he promised. But there was something else still bothering him. "Are you sure this is okay?" Sam asked. "I don't want it to cause any problems between you and Frank."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "As if." He waved off Sam's concerns. "It'd take a lot more than Serene. Speaking of..." Dean checked his watch. "I think you're going to be late picking her up for your date this afternoon, she does have the early shift today, right? And dude," Dean's gaze locked with Sam's, "go back to her place. Not here. We're having the dinner thing tomorrow, so just stay out of Frankie's way until then. All right?"

"B-but you said it was all right," Sam protested.

"For me," Dean said sternly. "And after everything goes fine tomorrow, it will be for you too. Don't worry, I'm planning on you and Dad and Bobby hanging out here tomorrow evening before you all take off on this hunt."

Sam frowned at the tone of his big brother's voice. Sam knew Dean did not want them hunting without him, but they couldn't exactly tell some supernatural clown on a killing spree to wait a year. Besides, Sam really wanted this one. He always knew clowns were evil. Again Sam wondered where Dad found this case, it wasn't his usual type of hunt, but he did not want to ask. He wanted to go.

* * *

John stared out the truck window at Frank's parents' house. For some reason, he really did not want to go inside.

"John?" Bobby asked from the passenger seat. "We going in, or waiting out here all damn day?"

John sighed as he turned off the engine. "I don't know, Bobby. The last time I was here, I basically found out my oldest was, for all intents and purposes, married."

A rough hand shoved him in the shoulder. "Suck it up, Winchester. Besides, Dean'll have our necks if we're late."

Well, that much was true. John hopped out of his truck as a small two door parked behind his truck on the street. Sam was in the passenger seat and 'Peaches' was driving. Oh, great. Dean wasn't able to talk Sam out of this stupid idea? He plastered on his best fake smile as he waved to them. Sam waved back, springing out of the car. His youngest rushed over to give him a hug. John politely shook Serene's hand before leading the way to the front door. He exchanged a weary look with Bobby as they passed the Impala parked in the driveway. Apparently Bobby was about as thrilled with Sam's new girlfriend as he was.

The front door opened before he could knock. Frank's mother stood in the entry beaming at them. "Come in, come in! It's so good to see you again!" She hugged John and Bobby, then Sam. Anna appeared distressed when she came to Serene, like she did not know what to do with her.

Serene solved it by stepping behind Sam and holding out her hand. "It's so nice to see you again, Mrs. Warren. It's been a while."

Well, the girl did have some class, John would give her that.

"Dad!" Dean's voice bellowed through the house, over the sounds of a football game on television.

"You'd better go," Anna whispered. "Dean is in a bit of a mood." She smiled and winked as she reached out to close the front door.

John walked quickly into the den. Dean was angled in one corner of the couch, arms resting on the back and side. It was good to see him without the sling, so maybe his shoulder was nearly healed. He wore a nice shirt, jeans and socks. Where the heck were his boots? One of Dean's arms raised to motion for John to come closer. He did. When he was close enough, Dean held out both arms.

John pulled his eldest to a stand.

"Thanks." Dean grinned at him as he threw his arms around John. John embraced his son, finding the protruding stomach rather strange. "Good to see you, Dad," he said softly into John's ear.

"You too, son," John whispered back. "Looking pretty damn big these days."

Dean pulled away, giving him an odd look. "Really big?" he asked in a smaller voice, his eyes wide.

John heard several throats clearing in warning from behind him. "Huge." He grinned. "I hope there's no cruise ships around, you'd probably sink 'em."

Dean's worry broke into a wide smile. "Thanks a lot, Dad." He reached behind him to grab the back of the couch. John saw the intention was to sit back down, so he grabbed Dean's other arm to help lower him. Dean smiled at him again in gratitude. "I'll be sure to stay inside until after you leave, so you won't wreck the truck."

John stared down, face as serious as he could muster. "I'd appreciate it. No money in the budget for body work."

Dean looked past John. "Really? No one is going to help me out here?" He rolled his eyes as he squirmed on the sofa, getting comfortable. "Fine. See if I help any of you out again." He shook a finger in Sam's and Frank's direction.

"Frank," John said, heading over with his hand outstretched. "I didn't see you there. Good to see you."

"Thanks, John." Frank shook his hand firmly and there was something in his face John could not quite identify. "Really glad you and Bobby could make it." His voice dropped to a whisper as he pulled John in closer. "Means a lot to Dean."

John nodded and winked that he understood. "Speaking of," John wrapped an arm behind Frank's back to shove him out of the den into the kitchen, "what are we having?" he asked loudly to cover their departure.

"Uh, well, turkey and ham," Frank said as John pushed him into the kitchen. "Why? Do you have a food allergy I don't know about?"

"Nope." John released Frank once they were out of sight. "How's Dean doing? And I mean really doing, not how he says he's doing."

Frank's eyes lit up. "Really well. He just had an appointment a couple of days ago. Doc says everything is going well, the baby looks healthy and is right on track. His ankles are swelling up enough where he can't wear the boots sometimes, like today, but he doesn't have any other shoes right now so I figure I'll need to go shopping pretty soon so he can get back to his daily walks."

"Morning sickness?" John demanded.

"Pretty much gone," Frank replied. "But eggs are still not allowed in the house."

John had to grin at that. "Don't blame you there. Well, good. And how are you?" he asked. "I take it you've been to see your doctor." He knew Dean well enough to know for a fact Frank had been thoroughly checked out by now.

Frank nodded, looking a little embarrassed. He glanced out the door before answering John's question. "Fine. Thanks to Dean, there wasn't any significant damage." Frank glanced around again. "My parents don't know, and I'd like to keep it that way."

John shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you mean thanks to Dean there wasn't any significant damage?"

Frank's whole face beamed. "He keeps aspirin in the car. Just in case."

John had to chuckle. That did sound like Dean being his usual overprotective self. "Figures," he said, meeting Frank's eyes. "Guess Dean must like you."

Frank grinned, clearly pleased. "Maybe so."

John decided to get serious for a moment. "Frank, I know you don't want to hear this, but you ought to tell your parents."

The large man groaned, rolling his eyes expressively. Maybe Dean had been home too long this time, he was rubbing off on Frank. "You sound like Dean."

John gripped him by the shoulder. "Well, at least you know he comes by it honestly."

Frank shrugged his free shoulder. "I don't want them to worry," he said sounding an awful lot like a little boy caught breaking a window.

"Yeah, well, I don't want Dean to be the only one in town in who knows," John told him. "He's carried some heavy duty responsibilities all his life, you know."

Frank looked away. Yes, he knew. John guessed Frank knew an awful lot about how Dean and Sam grew up if that reaction was anything to go by.

"He told my sister," Frank said softly as his eyes drifted back. "It's not just Dean."

John sighed and gave the muscled shoulder a squeeze. "Okay. And I won't give you the 'parents need to know' lecture, because I kind of have the feeling you won't take it well from me. Let's see what you think after that baby is born." He smiled at Frank. "It'll change everything."

Frank let out a long breath, as if he had been holding it. "I'm looking forward to it."

Now that tone had the ring of truth to it. Frank started to walk away, but John tightened his grip.

"Sir?" Frank asked, startled.

"Frank, there is one more thing I think you should know." John looked deep in his blue eyes so he could understand how serious this was. "If anything like that were to happen to Dean and no one told me..." John required a steadying breath. "Well, let's just say, it would be years before they found the body, if ever."

Frank's eyes went round as saucers. "O-kay." His Adam's Apple bobbed rapidly. "I mean, yes, sir?"

John released him. "Better," he said with a nod. "I think I'll head back in there." He jerked his head at the door to the den. "Unless you need some help in here?"

"No, sir," Frank said quickly. "My sister should be here any minute."

It was more likely Frank just wanted him out of the way, which was perfectly fine with John. The spot on the couch next to Dean was still open, so John sat there. Frank's sister arrived about ten minutes later. The kids tore through the house, yelling and screaming. After about fifteen minutes of madness, the Warrens set the kids up in one of the bedrooms with a bunch of Disney crap to watch. Thank God.

He tried to imagine Dean and Frank with grown kids and grandkids racing around. Nope, John was still having trouble with the whole 'baby' concept. And when this baby was born it would make him...a grandfather? Oh, crap. He hadn't thought about that. Not really.

"Dad?" Dean's voice broke through his whirling thoughts. "Everything all right?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, Dean." John glanced around the room. Sam's worried gaze was nearly identical to Dean's. It was nice having people who worried about you. He forced a smile on his face. "No problem, just thinking."

"About the job?" Dean asked gently. Well, that figured, it was probably what Dean was thinking about.

John shook his head. "Honestly? I was thinking about becoming a grandfather. Can you just not have that kid for say, two or three years?"

Horror flashed over Dean's face at the suggestion. Then he scowled. "Hell, no."

Lisa laughed from the kitchen doorway. "Even though it feels like it. So where are we eating? In front of the stupid football game, or at the table?"

Dean snorted as he gave John a shove in the arm. "You heard her, Dad. Help me up."

"I got it." Frank hurried in from the kitchen. John moved out of the way to let Frank pull Dean up from the couch. If he had to be honest, John liked the way Frank treated his eldest. That man was one protective son of a bitch, exactly what Dean deserved. And needed.

He followed them into the dining room. Was Dean walking funny?

"Damn, Dean. Are you starting to waddle?" John asked.

Everyone froze to turn around slowly. Everyone but Dean appeared alarmed. Dean looked confused.

"What?" Dean asked. "Am I what?"

"Starting to..." John's voice died out from the horrified expressions on the other faces, especially Sam's. "Dean, did I ever tell you about when your mother was pregnant with you?"

The group collectively relaxed, heading for the table again. John chose a chair across from Dean so he could tell his story. He glanced at the Warrens. "I guess you know Dean's the oldest, so we had no idea what we were doing. Well..." John shrugged self-consciously. "I had no idea. And the bigger Mary got, the cuter I thought she looked."

Anna gave him a strange look while Lisa scoffed loudly.

"No, really," John protested. "I did." He pictured the way she looked when she was pregnant and complaining about how her feet hurt and all her fruit cravings. "She couldn't eat enough strawberries."

"Dad? Dad!"

John turned his head slowly to look at Sam. "What?"

"Dad, you kind of zoned out there," Sam said with a worried look. "Are you all right? You don't have to talk about Mom."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped. "Dad!" He turned to face Dean again. "What were you saying about strawberries?"

John felt himself grin. "All she wanted to eat when she was pregnant with you was strawberries. With Sam it was peanut butter."

Dean chuckled, shooting Sam a mischievous glance. "Explains a lot."

A roll came sailing from the far end of the table. Dean picked it up and sent it right back at Sam, who caught it easily. Dean's eyes fixed on him again. "Go on, Dad."

John shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn't talked about this since Mary had actually been pregnant. "Well, with both of you, she developed this waddle." His face split in a beaming grin. "I used to tease her about it and she'd act like she hated it, but she didn't. Not really."

"How do you know she didn't hate it?" Frank asked in a cautious voice, his eyes slipping constantly to his left where Dean sat.

"Because once I really did hurt her feelings," John admitted. "She said something along the lines of feeling like a beached whale. Instead of telling her she wasn't fat, which I was supposed to do," he made eye contact with Frank, "I offered to shield her from the harpoons."

A collective groan went up around the table.

John nodded in defeat. "I know, I know," he admitted. "Believe me, I paid for that one."

"Oh, that's nothing," Lisa jumped into the conversation, much to John's surprise. "With our oldest, Caleb told me not to go into the water because there were Japanese ships on maneuvers in the area." There were chuckles amid the groans this time. "And when I refused," her voice rose about the collective noise, "he offered to swipe a radio collar which gives out a tracking signal the Japanese whalers have agreed not to hunt."

Now everyone laughed. Dean leaned over to whisper something to Frank which John strained to hear. "...starting to like him."

Frank nudged Dean gently, clearing his throat and shaking his head, but Frank was smiling.

"What about you, Lisa?" Dean asked across the table as they passed the plates around. "Did you ever waddle like that? Like my mom?"

John watched Lisa and Frank exchange a whole conversation in one look, much the way his boys could. Interesting. Maybe it was a sibling thing. She seemed to hesitate until Sam nodded at her, kind of giving her permission.

"Well, I'm not sure," she said slowly. "I doubt anyone would have told me. I get kind of...emotional when I'm pregnant."

Dean barked out a short laugh. "Boy I heard that! These hormones are a bitch." His attention returned to John. "When did she start this waddle thing, Dad?"

"Boy, I hope we're through in time to watch that game," Frank said loudly. "John, mind passing the rolls?"

"Let Dad talk, Baby," Dean said patting Frank on the leg.

John froze for a moment. Baby? Did Dean really call Frank 'baby'? Like Frankie wasn't bad enough?

"Earth to Dad," Dean said, waving a hand in front of him.

"Uh, yeah. When?" John scratched along his jaw. How far along was Dean now? Crap, he couldn't remember. He looked to Frank for a hint. Frank stretched an arm behind Dean's head and flashed five fingers, then one finger. "Oh, I'd have to say right around five or six months. With Sam it was closer to four."

Dean laughed through a mouthful of potatoes, pointing a finger down the table at his brother. Sam's eyes rolled, but he seemed more relaxed.

"So..." Dean elbowed poor Frank. "Have I started to waddle yet? It sounds like it might be genetic." He grinned while panic spread across Frank's face.

"I...uh...haven't noticed," Frank replied weakly, looking for all the world like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him.

Dean shrugged as he scooped up another forkful of food. "Maybe next month."

Frank's sigh of relief was audible and John couldn't help but chuckle at them. And if Frank thought this was the hard part, John couldn't wait until that baby was born. They hadn't seen anything yet.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37** - _Taking a nano-break because I just can't get this story out of my head!_

Frank saw Dean talking to his sister for a while after dinner, but he couldn't catch was it was about. Dean came away smiling though, so it couldn't have been bad. At least, that was his assumption. And yes, he knew perfectly well how to spell assume.

On the way home, when just he and Dean were in the Impala leading the pack back to the house, Dean sprang his announcement.

"I'm watching the kids on Friday."

Frank turned in the passenger seat to stare. "Excuse me?"

"Lisa's kids. I'm watching them at the house Friday," he said calmly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Frank waited a few moments, but no punch lines followed. Wishful thinking, he supposed.

"May I ask why?" Frank asked, desperately trying to sound as calm as Dean was.

"Dude, Caleb is only going to be home on leave for a few days. He arrives late Wednesday and flies out sometime Saturday afternoon," he said.

"And?" Frank prompted, really hoping there was more to it than that.

"Frankie, he's been gone for over six months. Six months!" Dean's eyes cut over to him briefly. "You know what that's like."

Oh. Frank sunk deeper in the Impala's seat. Well, yeah, of course his sister had sex. There was proof in the form of two very energetic hyperactive brats. Okay, maybe they weren't complete brats.

"Frankie?" Dean's voice had an odd strained quality to it. "You do know what that's like." It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Yes, Dean," he replied on a sigh. "I just don't like thinking about my big sister like that." A shudder ran down his spine.

Dean chuckled. "If you'd had a brother, it'd be different," he said.

"Maybe." Frank stared out the window for a moment before it really hit him. "Wait, did you say Friday? I have to work on Friday. The weekend after Thanksgiving is the biggest retail weekend of the year."

"I know," Dean replied with a shrug. "I said I would watch 'em."

"You." Frank stared again. "Watch Lisa's kids? Both of them?"

Now Dean's amused expression became hard. "Yeah. What? You think I can't handle it?"

"No, no," Frank protested, holding up both hands in automatic surrender. "Nothing like that. I'm sure you can. Just feeling sorry for the kids, that's all."

Dean appeared to be thinking that one over, deciding if it was offensive. He grinned suddenly. "Bet your ass. Bread and water. No fun whatsoever."

Frank chuckled. "Yeah, right." But to be honest, he had no idea what Dean was like alone with kids. Well, by the end of the day, it would be pretty interesting. "So is this for all day?"

"Nah, just a few hours," Dean replied. "Caleb wants to spend time with them too."

He'd better, Frank thought, his gaze drifting out the window again. Well, at least his father-in-law hadn't told Dean outright that he waddled. John could leave, Frank was stuck here and he'd be damned if John left him with a pissy Dean. Now if they could just get through tonight, he was home-free. Dean's family planned to leave for a new hunt first thing in the morning.

"So? Do I get to hear it?" Dean asked as they pulled into the driveway.

"Hear what?" Frank asked.

Dean grinned brightly at him as they waited for the garage door to go up. "That I was right. Serene behaved, no one was insulted, and nobody got upset. Well?"

Frank grinned back. He loved to see the twinkle in Dean's eye, the mischievous grin on his face, and the utter joy and happiness his spouse seemed to radiate lately. "Yeah, yeah, you were right. Nobody has to die."

Dean laughed as he parked the car. His head shook while Frank waited to walk into the house with him.

"Don't know what I'm going to do with you, Frankie," Dean chuckled.

Frank wound an arm over his shoulders. "Guess you'd better keep me around until you figure it out."

He felt Dean's arm slip around his waist. "Maybe so."

* * *

What the hell had Frank been so worried about, Dean wondered. Lisa's kids weren't bad. Not at all. Jennie, the first grader, did her best to entertain him with stories about the gross boys in her class and how the school cafeteria controlled kids with cups. Whatever the hell she meant by that.

Lisa's youngest, little Ben, was just a roly poly little guy who was happiest on the floor with his matchbox cars. So Dean sat in the floor, propped against the couch, with a small metal car in one hand and one of Jennie's teacups in the other. He was really going to need a nap after Lisa and Caleb picked them up, though. Man, where did kids get all this freaking energy from?

Just as he was wondering if he could at least convince Ben to settle down for an early afternoon nap, his cell went off. Dean dug it out of his pocket, the old habit of keeping it on him at all times still sticking with him. It was Sam. Huh.

"Yeah?" he asked as he ran his car up Ben's arm.

"Dean, I need a favor." Sam sounded a little panicked.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded, instantly alarmed.

"Serene didn't call me this morning," Sam replied in a hushed voice.

Dean waited, but Sam didn't say anything else. He relaxed back against the couch. "And?"

"She calls every morning," Sam replied in the same almost whisper.

"So? Maybe she forgot," Dean said dismissively. He drove his car over Ben's head to delighted three year old squeals.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked and he didn't sound happy at all.

"Watching Lisa's kids," Dean said with a shrug he knew Sam couldn't see.

"Oh." There was a pause before Sam got to the favor. "Dean, I'd like you to go by her place and check up on her."

"Dude, why don't you just call her?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes heavenward and silently asking for the patience required in dealing with his brother.

"I did!" Sam hissed. "I've been calling her cell all freaking morning, Dean! And I've called her work. She was scheduled to work the lunch shift, but she didn't show up. Please?"

Oh, crap. Dean hated when Sam did this. It was so hard telling Sam No. "Fine," he sighed. "After Lisa picks up the kids, I'll go over there."

"When will that be?" Sam's panic was still in full force.

Dean groaned again. "Well, maybe I can take them with me. Lisa did leave me the car seat."

"You are the best brother ever," Sam gushed. "I mean it, Dean. I owe you. I owe you big."

He grunted as he leveraged himself off the floor to the couch. "No kidding. I'll add it to the list." With a deep breath, Dean used the couch to push himself to a stand.

"So you're going?" Sam asked hopefully. "Now?"

"Yeah, Sam, I'm going now. I'll call you when I find out something," he promised.

"Well, I could just stay on the phone with you," Sam started to say.

"No," Dean cut him off. "I'll call you when I find out something." He ended the call. "Pushy brat," Dean muttered under his breath.

He turned a bright smile on the kids staring up at him. "Who wants to go for a ride?"

After slipping on his new slip-on house shoes with the hard rubber sole, thank you Frankie, he snagged the car seat on his way out the front door. He held Ben firmly by the hand and kept one wary eye on Jennie. In the garage, it took a few minutes to figure out how the hell this car seat thing was supposed to work. He thought it was facing forward when Caleb took it out of their car for him, so Dean set it up that way. After the seatbelt was through the correct hole and pulled tight, he still had another strap with a snap-hook on the end. What the hell was that for? Screw it, Dean decided, shoving it behind the car seat. Ben had been playing between the seat and the other door while he figured things out.

"Come on, big guy," he said gently. Ben grinned broadly and shook his head, drool running down his chin as his bright eyes looked for a means of escape.

"Oh, no, you don't." Dean's arm whipped out, catching the butterball around the middle as he jumped toward the front seat. He had to wrestle the little kid into the car seat. Ben laughed the whole time, so this was clearly some kind of game to him.

"He thinks it's funny," Jennie informed him. "I better sit back here and make sure he behaves." She pointed to the other side of the back seat. Dean adjusted the lap belt for her before sliding behind the wheel. His shoulder protested Ben's weight on it, but Dean figured if he didn't overdo it the rest of the day, it would probably be all right.

If he didn't overdo it. Ha. Dean chuckled to himself. Wow, being pregnant really made him change the way he thought. Before he thought nothing of pushing himself too far, convincing everyone his injuries were healed long before they stopped hurting. Now he was pacing himself, worrying about overdoing it. Sam would laugh his ass off if he knew.

The drive to Serene's apartment was quiet and calm, because Dean avoided the streets with stores. All the residential areas were quiet today. There were plenty of people out, but they were either shopping or taking strolls down the tree lined streets. In the parking lot of the apartment complex, he debated with himself on whether or not to leave the kids in the car.

"Jennie?" He turned around and slung one arm over the seat to look at her. "Honey, does your mom ever leave you and your brother in the car while she runs into a store real quick?"

"Mail," Jennie replied as seriously as only a six year old can. "When Mommy has to put bills in the mailbox, she leaves us in the car. I can see her the whole time."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. That would be a big fat NO. Great. And it started out such a nice day, too. With a sigh he released Ben's straps.

"Okay," Dean told them, "we have to check on a friend of my brother's. Remember Sam?"

"Are you gonna name the baby after him?" Jennie asked. "My mom said you were."

Dean wrestled Ben out of the stupid straps. "That's because your Uncle Frank has a big frigging mouth," he grumbled, pulling Ben into the front seat. "Now wait there until I open your door."

"Okay, Uncle Dean."

Dean paused for just a moment as he reached for the door handle. "Uncle Dean?" He glanced back at her. "Who told you to call me that?"

"Nobody," Jennie answered brightly. "But you are my uncle too, right?"

He gave her a big smile. "Yeah, honey, I guess I am. Now wait for just a second while I get the door."

Jennie sat quietly while Dean opened the door. Balancing Ben on one hip with one arm, his good arm, Dean reached down to release her seatbelt. She hopped out of the car and waited until Dean closed the door. Then she grabbed his free hand to be led up the stairs.

What possessed people to live in upstairs apartments? So far he hadn't said so much as 'boo' to Serene, but they were going to talk about this frigging upstairs apartment, not to mention not calling Sam back. Why couldn't Sam find a girl who wasn't such a major pain in the ass? Since his little brother was a major pain in the ass, the least he could do was find someone to shoulder some of the burden, not add to it.

Finally. It was this door? Dean release Jennie's hand to pound on the door. Nothing. He beat on it again. Did he have the number right? Crap. And his phone was in the other back pocket. He set Ben down.

"Jennie, watch your brother for a minute," he told her. When Jennie had a firm hold on Ben's arm, and Ben instantly wanted to start exploring, Dean reached for his cell.

Sam's phone rang twice before his little brother picked up. "Dean? Is she okay?"

"What's her apartment number?" Dean asked, glaring at the closed door.

"Two-fifteen," Sam replied.

"Shit." Dean glared at the number on the door. "I'm here, but there's no answer. What do you want me to do?"

"Go inside," Sam hissed urgently.

"I don't have a damn key," Dean argued.

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" Sam demanded.

Dean groaned into the phone. "Dude, I have two little kids with me!"

"I am not little!" Jennie protested angrily. "Ben is little!"

"Big boy!" Ben shouted at her. "My big boy! My potty!"

"Holy crap," Dean muttered. "Sam, I'll call you back." He slipped his cell back in his pocket.

"All right, all right," he waved his hands at the kids, "settle down. I'm sorry. There are no little kids here, okay?"

Jennie glared at him while Ben was distracted by a car passing in the parking lot.

"Jennie, honey, can you take care of your brother while I run down to the car? I have to get something," Dean told her.

Jennie shrugged, her attention diverting to her brother. "Sure, Uncle Dean."

"Great." He ran a hand over her head before hurrying back down the stairs. Stairs. God, he was starting to hate stairs. Dean stumbled once on the way down, his manly-looking leather house shoe slipping on the edge of a step. Crap. He glanced around quickly to be sure no one else saw that. In the clear, Dean looked over his shoulder to check on the kids as he hurried to the car.

In the glove compartment Dean found his lockpick kit. He hurried back, his imagination running wild with scenarios of the kids pressing through the railings and falling headfirst on the pavement below. At the top, Jennie stood holding fast to Ben by one arm while the other chubby arm reached through the railing in front of Serene's apartment.

"He wants to play with the cars," Jennie explained. "We haven't been able to convince him that they really are too big, because they look smaller from here."

Dean just nodded, having absolutely no response for that. "Are you doing all right with him?" he asked instead. "Because I need to open the door."

As he slipped the proper tools out of the slim black case, Dean realized he had an audience. With a shrug, he figured there was no time like the present for a proper education.

"If you don't have the key," he began as he stuck the black case under one arm, "it doesn't mean you can't get in. All you need..." Dean inserted his lock picking tools into the keyhole. These cheesy apartment locks weren't even a challenge; it unlocked easily. "All you need is a really cool uncle."

He grinned as he pushed open the door.

"Whoa!" Jennie's mouth dropped open. "How did you do that?"

"My dad taught me," Dean answered honestly. "Come on, inside." He hustled the kids into the apartment so he could close the door and not worry for about ten seconds.

"Serene!" Dean shouted as he closed the door. "Hey! Anybody home!"

"Maybe she's taking a nap," Jennie suggested.

Dean chewed on his lower lip in indecision. Crap. "Yeah, okay," he said. "I'll check. Keep your brother out here."

"Okay!" Jennie shouted as he headed for the short hallway. "Ben, don't put that in your mouth!"

Dean paused to look back at them. "You got it?"

"I do this all the time, Uncle Dean," Jennie replied. "It's under control." She waved him away.

"Under control," Dean muttered as he turned back around. There were two doors in the short hall. The first one was a bathroom. The second would have to be the bedroom.

The bedroom where his little brother had been getting lucky lately.

He couldn't help the smile on his face as he turned the knob. Well, Sam had been in a great mood lately, so maybe she was at least good in bed. He and Sam needed some time in the lawn chairs, so Dean could pump his little bro for details.

Dean gently pushed open the bedroom door, softly calling out, "Serene?"

There was a large unmoving lump in the bed with dark hair spread out all over the pillow.

"Serene?" Dean walked up to the bed slowly, not wanting to spook her. "Serene, wake up."

He couldn't see her chest moving. Dean glanced back at the open door to be sure the kids weren't watching. Good, the coast was still clear. He moved close enough to hold his hand over her nose and mouth. After a moment he felt her breath gently brushing against his palm. With a sigh of relief, Dean shook her shoulder with the intention of waking her. Heat bled through the thin cotton nightshirt. Shocked, Dean shifted his hand to her forehead, which was even hotter.

"Shit," he cursed softly. Dean headed for the bathroom first to grab a washcloth. Then he went into the small kitchen where he found a cordless phone. Good, she did have a land-line. Jennie was hovering over her little brother who was currently running a small metal car over Serene's furniture.

"Is Sam's friend here?" Jennie asked as Dean dialled 9-1-1.

"Yeah. She's sick," he told her. "Keep Ben in here for me?"

Jennie nodded seriously. "Yes, sir." She snapped him a military salute. Dean chuckled as he returned it.

"9-1-1. What is the nature of your emergency?"

Dean soaked his washcloth in luke-warm water. "I have a woman here with a high temp. She's unconscious and I can't wake her."

"Address?"

Dean rattled off her address and name, relaying that he was trying a wet washcloth to help bring her temp down. They promised to have an ambulance there within ten minutes. When it did arrive, the kids watched with huge, wide eyes as the paramedics raced in and took Serene out on a gurney.

"Come on," he told them. "We're going to the hospital, to check on her."

"Because she's your brother's friend?" Jennie asked as he locked the door behind them.

"Unca Dean! Unca Dean!" Ben shouted with his arms up.

Dean gave Jennie a quizzical look as he reached down to pick the butterball up. Jennie smiled brightly as she replied, "I've been working with him. So why do we need to check on her? Because she's your brother's friend?"

"Yep." Dean balanced Ben on one hip, out of the way of his stomach. "It's the kind of thing you do for your little brother." He winked at her. "But I don't have to tell an awesome big sister like you about that, do I?"

She beamed at him. "No, sir, Uncle Dean. You would not believe how many slobbery cookies I have to pick up off the floor."

"You need a dog," he told her.

"Tell my mom." Jennie rolled her eyes at him. "But she'll say no."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38 **- _Eh, screw nano. This is more fun!_

Dean balanced Ben on one hip and held Jennie's hand tight as he talked to the ER admissions nurse. He informed her that he was a friend of the family and was the one who made the emergency call. That seemed to win him some points this time. The nurse promised to inform the doctor overseeing the ER this shift.

Dean found a padded bench seat which looked a hell of a lot more comfortable than the plastic chairs in the waiting area. After setting Ben down, Dean pulled another two cars from his pocket. Ben clapped happily as he held out his hands for the cars. Dean squatted until he was sitting on the bench while Jennie watched him closely.

She pressed one finger against his humongous stomach. "There's a baby in there, right? Like when Ben was inside my mom?"

Well, of course she knew. What was Lisa supposed to say, that he had a major beer-gut? Dean nodded slowly as he ran one of the cars over his own thigh. Ben leaned against his knee to crash a car against his. Lisa seemed to be studying him closely.

Finally she spoke again. "But I thought only mommies had babies grow in their tummies."

"Usually," Dean told her. "Not always." He really hoped she bought his simple explanation.

"Really?" Jennie's face scrunched up like she couldn't quite believe it. Then it smoothed back out to normal. "Okay," she said with a shrug.

Relieved, Dean returned to concentrate on entertaining Ben. His cell went off in his pocket. Crap.

He dug it out, hoping not to be chewed out for using it in the waiting area. It was Lisa.

"Hey, Lisa. Having fun?" He grinned and winked at Jennie. Jennie rolled her eyes. She did not approve of 'too much kissy-stuff'.

"Dean, where are you?" Lisa asked, a touch of panic in her voice. "We're at the house."

"Oh." He glanced around but there was no clock. "Sorry about that, I would've called if I'd known the time."

"Where are you?" she asked again.

"Don't panic," he said firmly. "The kids are fine. Sam called me in a panic because he hadn't heard from Serene and she missed work today." Shit! He still needed to call Sam, too.

"And?" Lisa demanded.

"And he talked me into going by her place to check on her," Dean replied. "We're in the ER waiting room."

Lisa gasped. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"No idea. She's running a nasty high fever and I couldn't wake her up, so I called for an ambulance," he told her.

"Dean, why did you take the kids up to the hospital?" Lisa asked. "You should have just called me."

"Well," he said slowly, "to be perfectly honest, since I don't know what's wrong with her and if she's contagious, I figured the kids and I needed to be here."

"Shit!" she hissed through the phone. "I didn't think about that. Were the kids close to her? Did they touch her?"

"No, but I did," Dean replied. "I washed my hands, but I didn't want to count on that."

"Okay, we'll meet you up there," Lisa told him. "Caleb can visit with the kids there just as well as at home." The last part was said firmly, as if she weren't just telling him. "See you in a few minutes, Dean."

He was surprised by the amount of relief he felt over Lisa coming. The kids weren't difficult to handle, but he did not want to have to make a decision concerning their health. That would be overstepping the bounds of his authority as an uncle-in-law, or whatever the hell he was, for sure.

"Unca Dean!" Ben slapped one of the cars against his leg.

"Sorry, big guy," Dean replied with a smile. "Whose turn is it to crash? Mine or yours?"

"You!" Ben pointed at him.

He played with Ben while asking Jennie for more stories about school. She had some good ones, which couldn't possibly be true, but at least were entertaining.

"And after this girl...uh?" he prompted her for the name again.

"Destiny."

"Right. And after Destiny shoved you off the swing, in front of the whole class," (riiiiight) "she lied about it claiming you fell. The teacher believed her over the whole class?" Uh-huh. And he was heir to some wealthy kingdom.

"Yep," Jennied replied seriously. She kept a good straight face. He might have to teach her how to play poker. "The whole class got detentions."

"Detention? In first grade?" If that were true, this was the strictest school district in the country. "What happens in first grade detention?"

Her gaze drifted away. She must need some time to come up with something good. "We have to write lines," she told him. "I will be good and never lie. A hundred times."

"A hundred?" he asked. "Wow, that's a lot." Dean cut his eyes at her. "I bet your hand still hurts."

"We-e-ell," Jennie said slowly, "maybe it wasn't a hundred. Maybe it was twenty."

"Maybe?" She might not be a great liar, but she was entertaining. "You don't sound too sure of that."

Jennie let out a loud sigh. "Fine. I made it up. Happy?"

"Not yet," he said. "Now I want to hear how you got Destiny back. You and the class did get her back for your detentions, right?" She gave him a strange look. "Well, if you're going to tell a story, you should finish it. Whether it's true or not."

She laughed at him. "Uncle Frank said you'd say that. I didn't believe him."

Dean shook his head, grinning at her. "Not believing Uncle Frank. Tsk-tsk. I wonder what he'll say when I tell him." He decided to see how much he could tease her. "He'll be so upset."

A stricken expression crossed her face. "Really upset?" She seemed a little scared.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, but I can pretty much guarantee he'll say 'I told you so.'"

Jennie rolled her eyes. "Mom says Uncle Frank says that all the time, to everybody."

"Oh, yeah?" Maybe he had something to tease Frank with later! "I wonder what Uncle Frank will say about that?"

Her head dropped and shook from side to side. "Oh, man...."

Dean chuckled as he lifted her by the chin to look at him. "Hey, I want to thank you. You did a great job helping me out with Ben today. And I am going to tell your mom and dad about that."

"Uncle Frank too?" Jennie asked softly.

Dean wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Yes, Uncle Frank too. I'm sure he'll be very proud of you."

As Jennie sagged back against him, Dean noticed the doors to the ER opening. Lisa and Caleb, who was in excellent shape and sported a military style shaved head, walked in.

"Daddy!" Jennie squealed, racing across the waiting room. Ben followed as close as his short chubby legs would allow. Dean leaned back against the wall to wait.

"Hear anything yet?" Lisa asked as she approached holding a squirming Ben.

"Nope." He waved a hand in the direction of the admissions desk. "But you know how they are about that around here."

Lisa's face darkened. "Here," she said, handing Ben over, "I'll be back in a minute."

He almost felt sorry for those nurses. Almost. To be honest, Dean just wanted to know what the hell was going on so he could call Sam and go home and put his aching feet up. Caleb sat in one of the hard plastic chairs facing him, holding Jennie. She was animatedly relaying the story of how Dean found Serene. Dean almost flinched when she got to the part about picking the lock. It might not have been too bad, or obvious, except she also re-enacted it. Just as Jennie described how cool uncles could open locks without having a key, Lisa walked back up. She watched the re-enactment for a moment before sitting next to Dean.

"The doctor is coming out to talk to us," Lisa told him when Jennie moved on to her next point of interest. Lisa motioned to Jennie, who was crawling back in her daddy's lap. "Was that related to the reason Sam knows how to hot-wire a car?"

Dean shrugged, running a car over Ben's arm. Lisa took one of the other cars to run across the bench seat. Ben's car raced her's and Dean's. He was so caught up in playing with a little kid (Big boy! Potty!) Dean did not notice when the doctor greeted them.

"Dean!" Lisa hissed.

He turned to face a man in a white lab coat. "Are you the individual who found Serene Stephenson?"

"Yes," Dean replied. "She's dating my little brother. When she didn't show up for work today he asked me to check on her."

The doctor shook his head. "And it's a good thing," he said. "She was running a really high fever when they brought her in, peaking right around a hundred and seven."

Dean let out a low whistle.

"Exactly," the doctor said. He checked the folder clutched in his hand. "Well, we managed to bring it down to a hundred three. I've started an I.V. to replace the fluids she's lost and to administer the antibiotics."

"So you know what's wrong with her?" Dean asked. Frigging doctor couldn't just get to the damn point already?

"Oh. Yes." He glanced around at them all. "Didn't I already do that part?"

"No," Lisa said sharply. "But it's not too late. Yet."

He gave her an embarrassed half-smile. "Sorry. Usually we can only release this information to immediate family, but since she doesn't have any and you did make the call which saved her life..."

"Saved her life?" Lisa demanded. "Isn't that a little melodramatic?"

"Not really, no." The doctor gave Lisa a pointed look before returning his attention to Dean. "Besides, in a town this size everyone will know everything by morning. I'm willing to bet one of my nurses has already called some family member to relate the latest gossip." His face reflected his distaste over the hazards of working in the Pearland hospital. He sighed heavily. "Besides, considering your condition," he waved at Dean, "you really should know."

"Speaking of being the latest gossip," Dean mumbled. Lisa shot him a glare, which he returned in kind. Like he was _wrong_ about this one? Please.

That was when he spotted his doctor, Smith-Jones, heading his way. What the hell was wrong with Serene?

"It's strep," Smith-Jones announced as she approached. "Turn around. I'm giving you a shot."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Out here?" he demanded.

She gave him the same cold glare which kept the damn sling on for two weeks longer than Dean was willing to tolerate even for Frankie. "You want to drop your pants? Or are you going to stand up and turn around?"

Crap. Dean stood slowly and turned his back to her. He felt her pull up his shirt and pull his stretchy maternity jeans down just enough to expose the top of his hip. A sharp prick was the first warning he had of the shot.

"It's an antibiotic," Smith-Jones announced. He could feel coldness from the shot seep into his muscles. "I'm not having you come down with strep just because you were doing a good deed."

Finally the needle pulled out, much to his relief. Dean winced as he rubbed at the site of his injection. It was already sore and tender.

"That will feel better in a few minutes," his doctor announced. She glanced around. "Was anyone else with him?"

"The kids," Dean told her with a wave of his hand. "I was kid-watching."

Lisa gave him a funny look. Dean announced, "Jennie says they're too big for baby sitters."

Caleb laughed as he stood, picking her up with him. "That's my girl." Jennie threw both arms around his neck and hugged tight. Dean watched for a moment, partially envying it and partially looking forward to when he could expect the same thing.

Smith-Jones planted both hands on her hips as she looked the kids over. "Well, I'm not their pediatrician, but if you'd like..."

She never had the opportunity to finish her sentence.

"Yes!" Jennie and Caleb spoke up at the same time.

"Follow me." Smith-Jones turned around to lead the way to her office. Dean stayed behind with Serene's doctor.

Lisa turned to look for him just before she stepped out of the ER waiting area. She waved for him to follow. Dean motioned for her to go, he would be staying here. Lisa nodded that she understood before disappearing behind the doors which separated the ER from the rest of the building.

"So is she going to be all right?" he asked the doctor who had yet to introduce himself.

"She's pretty sick," the doctor told him. "And as I said before, there is no family to make her medical decisions."

Dean ran a hand over his head. "Well, she and my brother are engaged." The doctor shook his head. "Secretly married. Right before Thanksgiving."

The man smiled and held out his hand. "Jordan Stein," he said. "Nice to meet you."

"Dean Winchester," he replied. "Uh, Warren," he added as an afterthought.

Doc Stein's smile dropped. "As I said, I've started an I.V. with saline and antibiotics. I've never seen a strep infection this bad. Any idea how long she's had it?"

Dean shrugged. "Nope. I just saw her last weekend, for our family Thanksgiving, and she seemed perfectly healthy. No complaints about anything except the fact my brother had to leave the next day for work."

Stein nodded. "I understand. My family celebrates off times too, because I usually have to work holidays." He looked Dean in the eye. "Low man on the totem pole."

Now that wasn't exactly giving Dean the warm fuzzies. "And that's it? That's all you're doing?"

Stein shook his head. "It took some doing to get her body temp down to a safe level. We don't want to get rid of it completely until the infection is gone, because it means her body is fighting it. When will her husband be back? I can't assume you have medical authority. We would need something on file."

Dean gave the man his best hustling smile. "Sure. No problem. I have it back at the house. After I give it to you, you'll let me back there?" He jerked his head at the doors which led to the patient area.

"Uh, well, yes," Stein said hesitantly.

"That's a medical what form? So I know which one to bring back," Dean asked him. Stein told him the exact name.

Dean walked out to his car. Ben's car seat was still in the back. Shit. Well, maybe they could wait until he came back. He drove over to the small public library which was nearly empty. Dean found the required form quickly, thanks to his experience in research and the like. He slipped out a credit card receipt he had palmed a few weeks ago, for no reason other than to keep in practice, to forge her signature. It wasn't perfect, but he did not think anyone would be looking at it too close. He put it back, next to the one he had with Lisa's signature, Anna's and George's. Couldn't be too careful, Dean had to be able to look after the family. Damn, he still needed to snag a copy of Caleb's. If the guy weren't on a tour of duty on another continent, it would be easier.

In the parking lot, his cell went off. It was Lisa looking for him and the car seat. Dean returned to the hospital. Lisa and Caleb took the car seat and both kids. Lisa invited him over for the rest of the afternoon to visit, but he declined. It was really nice of them, but he needed to look after Serene, for Sam's sake.

Shit. Sam. Before he walked back inside the ER, Dean called his little brother.

"About time, Dean!" Sam snapped harshly. "What happened?"

"She's pretty sick, Sam. Was Serene complaining about a sore throat or anything before you left?" Dean asked.

"What? No. Why?" Sam demanded.

"Because she has a nasty case of strep. Better hit a clinic, Sam. Get your throat swabbed," Dean informed him. "Don't make me tell Dad."

Sam groaned. "Okay, fine. But how is Serene?"

"Sick. I told you," Dean snapped back. "Now get your ass back to work so you can come home and bring her soup in bed, because I'm sure as hell not going to."

The whoosh of air from the other end told him Sam wasn't worried any more. "I think we're almost done here. I'm pretty sure we know what it is, now all we have to do is figure out who."

"Tell me about it when you get home," Dean replied as he walked closer to the doors. "I'm a little busy."

"Oh, right. I forgot you were babysitting. Okay, Dean. I'll talk to you later."

Dean slid his cell back in his pocket as he walked through the ER doors. He enquired about Serene and who to give his form to at the desk. They made a copy before informing him Serene had been admitted.

At least hospitals had working elevators. Serene's room was on the fourth floor. She had a room all to herself, so they must be worried about her being contagious. Dean took a seat by her bed.

"You'd better be all right," Dean told her softly. "Because if you're not, I am not explaining this to Sammy."

* * *

Frank's jaw was sore from clenching his teeth together for the past hour while he tried to take off from work early. Now he ground his teeth as he waited for the elevator to rise to the fourth floor. What the hell was Dean up to? The hospital was the last place he wanted Dean right now. Frank had issues with Dean even being around his niece and nephew, convinced he would come down with a cold or something by this weekend, much less this!

Rounding into the room number Dean had relayed to him on the phone, Frank saw Dean first. He sat in a chair by the bed, kicked back on two legs with his feet propped up. Dean's head leaned forward, like he might be asleep. Frank walked forward slowly, not wanting to surprise his spouse. He had learned that lesson really early in their relationship.

"Dean?" Frank called out softly several times, but Dean did not move. Oh, crap. He was really out.

He looked over Serene's still form. She had several lines hooked up to her and monitoring equipment on one side of the bed. Judging by the displays, Frank could see she was still running a fever and her heart-rate was kind of high. He stood next to Dean.

Frank gently brushed his fingers along Dean's cheek as he called out his spouse's name again. This time Dean's eyelashes fluttered.

"Hey, Babe," Frank said, pressing his palm against Dean's cheek. "What are you still doing here?"

Dean blinked wide green eyes up at him. "Huh?" He glanced around, as if he couldn't remember where he was. "Oh. Yeah. Serene's sick."

Frank sighed as he caressed the side of Dean's face. "Still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

Dean pulled away to set all four legs of his chair on the floor. "I'm responsible," he said simply.

"You found her," Frank argued. "And you got her medical attention. That doesn't make you responsible."

"Nope." Dean yawned broadly and stretched. "But that form I brought in does."

"What form?" Frank asked as a sinking feeling settled into his stomach.

"The one where I can make her medical decisions," Dean replied, running a hand over his face.

"What?" Frank hissed. "Do not tell me she actually signed that?"

Dean waved a hand at her still form on the bed. "Does she look like she can sign anything?" he whispered with a glare. "But she's Sam's girlfriend, so I have to look after her."

"Then how?" Frank asked, alarmed.

Dean's eyes locked with his. "Dude, everything I do isn't exactly legal."

Frank's eyes widened in alarm. "You-you..." He tried to process it, but he couldn't. "What?"

Dean waved at another chair. "Frankie, sit down. There are still a few things about me you don't know."

Frank groaned as he pulled up a second chair. "If it's about the credit cards, don't bother. I figured that out the day I found credit cards in your wallet with the names Bruce Willis and Michael Knight." He smiled at Dean. "It's a good thing I recognized the names, otherwise I would've been damned jealous."

"Yeah, well, there's more." Dean shifted in his chair to pull out his wallet. He opened it and rifled in it for a moment. Then he handed over several driver's licenses.

Frank took them. They all had Dean's picture, but different names and addresses and they were from different states. "What is this?" he asked as he flipped through them again. He looked up into Dean's serious face. Yeah, he wasn't going to like the answer, was he?

"I made those," Dean said quietly. "And Serene needed someone to look after her."

"Serene needed..." The realization crashed through any more questions Frank had. "You made the form?" he asked.

"No." Dean gave him a disgusted look. "I just signed her name on it."

Frank handed back the bogus driver's licenses. "Your name is Dean, right?"

Dean shot him a hard glare as he stuffed his wallet back in his pocket. "I haven't been lying to you, Frank."

"No. I know." Frank sighed as he rubbed his hands over his face. "So I take it she isn't contagious?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. Doc already shot me up with a butt-load of antibiotics, just in case. The kids too, since they were with me when I found her."

Frank relaxed some, until he caught the way Dean was looking at him. "What? Is there more?"

"Well, I was thinking." Frank's stomach plummeted. He really wasn't going to like this, he could tell. "Serene is really sick. I mean, she hasn't even woken up yet. I figure by the time they're ready to release her, she won't be able to stay by herself." Warm green eyes focused on him. "She'll need to stay with somebody."

Frank crossed his arms over his chest as he levelled his gaze on Dean. "Am I even being asked?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping you'd offer," he said. The reproving look on Dean's face was almost too much. "Hasn't this silly feud between you two gone on long enough?"

"There isn't a feud," Frank replied sullenly.

"Guess not," Dean said slowly. "That would require two sides, and all I've seen since I've been staying home is you giving her grief, nothing from her."

Frank rolled his head and his eyes. "What? Now I'm a bad person?"

Dean reached over to hold his arm. "I never said that. You know better. And you're better than this, Frank. I know you are."

Damn it. His gaze settled on Serene. She did look dangerously sick. "She still hasn't woken up? Aren't they worried about that?"

"Yeah, they're worried," Dean replied and the touch left his arm. "And I'm getting sore from sitting in this stupid chair."

"Go for a walk," Frank told him. "I'll stay in case she wakes up."

Dean stared at him for a moment, like he wasn't sure if he should believe Frank.

"And if she does, I'll inform her that she's coming home with us when she's well enough." Dean's eyebrows climbed halfway up his brow. "If I ask, the answer will be no, and you know it."

Dean held out his arms. Frank jumped to his feet to pull his spouse to a stand. Then Dean leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Baby," he whispered. Dean pulled back to look him in the eye. "Have I told you how awesome you are lately?"

Frank frowned at him. "I don't think you've ever called me awesome."

Dean gave him a brilliant grin before heading for the door. "It's implied," he called out as he stepped out into the hall. "I won't be too long."

Frank waved him away and settled in to wait. He hoped Dean grabbed something to eat, too. There was no telling when the last time that stubborn mule he married ate.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39** - _Baaack in the gutter again! Well, briefly, but better than nothin', right?_

Was she on fire? Her skin burned and there were live coals destroying her throat. She couldn't open her eyes to see either, it was too much effort. Occasionally she heard voices, but it was too hard to listen or follow what they were saying, so she allowed blissful sleep to pull her away from the pain.

When sleep left her again, it was quiet and she felt hot all over, but not burning. The live coals on her throat had died down to a dull fire, almost tolerable. There were no voices this time, but she did not care. There was something cool on her forehead and it felt wonderful. Sometimes the coolness would move down her cheeks and over her neck. Then it would disappear to return to her forehead.

When she did hear voices again, it was not the voices she would have expected.

"How is she?" That really sounded like Frank, but Frank was barely speaking to her these days.

"Better." Oh, this voice sounded familiar. Who was it? "The doctor said her vitals look good and the fever is coming down, only a hundred and one now, so that's promising." He talked like Sam, but it wasn't Sam's voice.

"Dean, why don't you go home? I'll stay," Frank said.

Dean. Why was Dean in her apartment? And who was running a fever?

"Nope. I'm staying. Sammy'd kill me if I left her here alone."

"I said I'd stay," Frank repeated.

A deep sigh pierced the room. "Baby, you have to work tomorrow. You should go home."

"You're determined to stay?" Frank demanded. "Then you're sleeping in the other bed. Don't bother arguing. Your ankles are so swollen there's just a big fleshy blob there."

Other bed? She didn't own two beds. What the hell were they talking about?

Dean groaned. "But you'll go home?"

"Nope."

"Now, Baby..."

"Not gonna work, Dean, so don't bother. I don't care if I'm a little tired tomorrow. If you're staying, so am I. I already showered at home and brought fresh clothes for work tomorrow." There was a pause. Serene tried opening her eyes, but her eyelids had fifty pound weights on them. "Good," Frank continued, "now get in that other bed."

She heard movement from the foot of her bed. The sounds were slow and moved around the foot of the bed to her left. Then she heard a metallic creak.

"I'm not going to be able to sleep," Dean said. "I'm missing something."

Now Frank groaned. "You are kidding."

Dean's chuckle filled the room. "You weren't kidding last time, what makes you think I am? Now get that tight ass of yours over here."

She heard more movement over to her left and another metallic creak. Still Serene could not budge the fifty pound weights on her eyelids. They sounded like two big guys settling into a bed that was too small. Again she wondered where the extra bed came from. If they brought it with them, where did they put it? There wasn't enough room in her bedroom for a second bed. The unsettling idea that maybe she wasn't at home occurred to her.

"Is your hand warm enough?" Dean asked. Serene knew she did not want to know what he meant.

"Yep."

"Frankie? If I start to waddle, are you going to tease me? Like my dad teased my mom?"

Frankie's snort was loud in the room. "Are you kidding? I like breathing, thank you. Ow!"

"Big idiot," Dean mumbled. "It's a family tradition, Frank. I'm probably going to waddle. I just want to know if I should expect you to tease me."

"Dean," Frank said on a yawn, "if I were going to tease you, I would've started it over a month ago."

"What!" Dean hissed loudly. "I waddle? Already? Now you're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Told you," Frank replied in a sleepy voice, "I like breathing."

"How bad?" Dean demanded. "The waddle. How bad is it?"

"Not as bad as a penguin, closer to a duck," Frank said. Serene winced, and it hurt to move her facial muscles. Her body was so very tired, like she just swam the English Channel. Another stupid childhood fantasy down the drain. Why did she ever want to do that again?

The fifty pound weights were difficult to dislodge, but Serene managed to open her eyes a tiny bit, mere slits. This was definitely not her apartment. Crap. She got her head to roll to one side. There was the kind of monitoring equipment hospitals used right next to her bed. Serene allowed her eyes to close again. She was in a hospital. Good. That meant she didn't have to wake up right now.

"A duck?" Dean's voice faded as she sunk deeper into painless, dark sleep. It was a relief to let go. For a while.

When light struck her face, Serene was able to open her eyes again. There were only five pound weights this time. She couldn't open them all the way, but she did manage to crack them partially open. Yep, this was definitely a hospital room. She didn't dream it last night. A man sat in a chair next to her bed. It took a moment to recognize Dean, since she couldn't see his face. His head was down and turned away from her. She could hear light snoring coming from him.

Serene opened her mouth to call his name, but only a hoarse croak came out. It might have been enough, because Dean's head jerked up. He blinked bloodshot eyes at her before recognition dawned on his features.

"Hey, sleepy-head. Feeling better?" Dean asked gently, pulling his feet off the end of her bed to sit up straight. She realized that they were alone, just her and Sam's brother. Serene could not remember ever being alone with Dean, or even speaking to him one-on-one.

Serene nodded and tried to ask why she was here, but another hoarse croak came out.

"Easy. I'll bet the throat is still sore, huh?" Dean asked, deep concern written all over his face and in his eyes. "Well, strep will do that to you. I remember when Sam had it as a kid, he scared me so bad I called everyone on my list. Pastor Jim came and took us to the doctor. Turned out I had it too, just didn't know it." He had a nice smile. "It hurt to talk for a week, but only shut Sam up for a couple of days."

She smiled back and nodded that she understood.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I had a feeling you'd get it." Dean glanced at the other side of the room before locking gazes with her. "There are a few things I need to tell you, before the doc comes in. I kind of told them you're my sister-in-law and that I had your permission to make your medical decisions."

Her jaw dropped.

"I know, I know," he hissed. "But it was the only way I could look after you. Oh, uh, I might have signed your name for you, too."

She glared.

Dean grinned at her. "Guess you're gonna have to owe me the chewing out, huh? Well, it's good to see you're feeling better. I'll, uh, give you the form to burn after we spring you out of here."

Serene crossed her arms over her chest, but it was difficult to look imposing while lying flat on her back.

"Want to sit up?" Dean asked.

He fiddled with the bed controls until she was sitting up. Now maybe her glare would work. But he grinned again.

"I'm starting to see why Sam likes you. You've got real spirit." He kicked his feet up on her bed, rocking back on two chair legs and still grinning that irritating grin. It said he knew more than she did, which at the moment he must. "So. Want to hear some really embarrassing Sammy stories?"

She studied his face closely, for the first time. Despite that roughness Dean tended to portray, there was a lot of kindness in his face. She should have noticed this before now, like maybe when Frank first introduced him. Damn it. A little late now, wasn't it. Wasn't it? She wasn't sure. So Serene nodded that she would like to hear some stories about Sam. Dean's face lit up.

"Prank wars? Or the time he was in a school play? The play was cute, but in the prank wars, I got him so bad he was bald." He beamed at her. He held up a finger. "Story one or," he held up a second finger, "story two?"

Serene smiled as she put up three fingers.

"Demanding, huh? Well, you and Sammy must be quite a pair," he told her. "Okay, I'll start with the prank wars we used to have, because that's what I want to talk about. Then we'll get to his play."

She nodded as she relaxed into the hospital bed.

--

Frank slapped his pocket when his cell phone went off. He scrambled for it, excusing himself from a customer momentarily.

"Yeah? Dean, what's wrong?" he demanded.

"Nothing, Baby," Dean said lightly. "Looks like they're going to release Serene in the morning if she can tolerate food."

"So soon?" Frank asked, dreading having that woman in his house for days while she recuperated. Yeah, okay, so maybe Dean had a point about the fact she had been behaving, and she did run off the bitch who tried to embarrass Dean in The Bar. He had to give her a few points for that. No one else would've tried running off even a transplant like that.

"Frank," Dean did not sound pleased.

"I, uh, just meant I'm surprised it's so soon," Frank protested. "She didn't even wake up yesterday."

"I know. At least I'll be able to sleep at home tonight," Dean said.

Relief flooded through Frank's entire body. "Really?"

"Yup. Serene's insisting. So is your sister, by the way. She left here about a minute ago. I'm calling you from the hospital parking lot."

"You're gonna spoil my sister, walking her to her car like that," Frank told him with a grin on his face.

"That's the plan," Dean said with a laugh. "Besides I needed to grab a notepad from the car for Serene. It still hurts for her to talk. Are you still feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Frank insisted. "And if I start feeling not-fine, I'll go see your doctor. Okay?"

"I'd feel better if you'd just let her give you a shot, Baby," Dean said. Again.

"You know how I feel about shots," Frank hissed into the phone.

He heard a disappointed groan. "We'll talk later. What time are you planning on coming up to the hospital?"

That gave Frank pause. "I thought we were sleeping at home tonight?"

"Visiting hours are until nine, Frankie," Dean said slowly, as if he were totally dense.

"Okay, Babe," Frank told him. "Since I opened, I'm scheduled to get off at four. How does that sound?"

"Good. Can't wait. Oh, and you're getting a blood pressure test today. Just so you know," Dean told him.

Frank smiled to himself. "Yes, dear." He loved it when Dean worried about him.

"I know you love it," Dean echoing his thoughts filled him with all kinds of warm feelings. It was probably a good thing they weren't in the same room. A squishing was definitely in order. "Bye, Baby."

"Bye." Frank slid his phone back in his pocket. He turned back to his customers, who were watching him with matching amused expressions. "I'm sorry. Where were we?"

--

Dean was still feeling pretty damn good when he strolled back into Serene's room. Frank better hope he wasn't working too hard today, or tomorrow he'd be looking for a new job. He promised. Just the thought of Frank actually meaning it, sticking to his promise, filled Dean with comfort and confidence in their relationship.

"Here you go," he said, tossing the pocket-sized notepad and pen by her hand. Serene snatched it up and starting scribbling immediately. Yeah, she and Sam had a lot in common all right. He only hoped they might share a few good qualities too. She held up the page for him to read. Damn, their handwriting was about the same too, barely legible.

"Uh, you want to know what decisions I made for you?" he asked, squinting at her handwriting. She nodded emphatically. He sat in the chair. "Not many," Dean promised. "They already had your temp below danger levels and that I.V. in you before anyone bothered to come out and talk to me." He shrugged at her. "I just made sure you didn't get any worse."

She mimed something, running her hand over her forehead and down her neck.

"Oh. You remember that?" Dean asked her. Serene nodded. "Yeah, I might have used a cool cloth on you. Your temp went up a few times but the doctors weren't too worried since it wasn't dangerously high again. The nurses provided the cloth and a bowl of water if I wanted to use it." He shrugged at her.

Her attention went to the notepad again. She wrote in big letters on a fresh page and underlined them. When Serene held it up this time he had no problem reading it. 'WHY?'

He smiled at her. "You're Sam's girlfriend," Dean told her softly. "So I had to."

She flipped to a new page again, scribbling furiously before handing over the notepad. 'Don't like me. Not your fault. Sam not blame you.'

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Can you write a complete sentence?" She glared in response. Dean held up both hands as he laughed at her. "Sorry. Just teasing." She really didn't get it? "Serene, I don't think I've ever seen my little brother happier than since he met you. He lost someone close to him already; it's not going to happen again. Not on my watch."

Her brow creased as she motioned for the notepad back. She wrote again and shoved it back in his hand. 'I'm not special. Sam can find someone else.'

Dean laughed again. "Lady, you're special to Sam. That's what counts." He shook a finger at her as he leaned back to prop his feet up on her bed again. "Don't make me tell Sam about this little conversation either. He'll chew you out, you know." He threw a wink at her.

Her fevered cheeks flushed a darker pink. Dean was starting to see why Sam liked her. Not only did she have a lot of spirit, but she was pretty in a good-looking-but-not-cute kind of way. The blushing when you said something nice about her was kind of endearing, too. She bent over the notepad to write again.

She handed it over. Dean noticed she was being more careful with her writing now, printing clearly so he could read it. 'Waddle not bad. Ducks waddle more.'

He stared at her a moment. "You heard that?" Dean demanded.

Her cheeks flushed a brighter pink as she nodded.

"I thought you were asleep," he said suspiciously. "I know your eyes weren't open." Then another thought occurred to him. "Were you too tired to open your eyes?"

She sighed as she nodded. He didn't know if the sigh was relief from him understanding or letting her off the hook.

"Been there," Dean admitted. "I take it you heard the waddle conversation and not much else?"

She nodded, miming falling asleep.

"So you didn't hear us talking about baby names?" he asked. She frowned and shook her head. Relieved, Dean nodded at her. "Good. It's kind of a surprise. Only kind of, because Frank has a big mouth and keeps blabbing things to his family."

Serene's face split in a wide grin as she nodded again.

--

Frank drifted off to the sounds of Dean in the shower. He would have liked to join in, but Dean was right, he was damned tired. Lucked out on his blood pressure test, too. It was a few points below Dean's declared limit. Then Dean made him lie down after dinner and a shower.

When he woke again, soft light drifted into the room from the bathroom and Dean was sound asleep next to him. There was something which always helped him to relax, he only hoped Dean wouldn't mind. Or feel too tired.

Frank snuggled up against Dean's back, pressing his body tight against the still muscular back. Through his chest he could feel Dean breathing. One hand rested on Dean's hip. His hand slipped down in the front and he was surprised to feel Dean's cock was already getting hard, so maybe a good dream would help him out. Grinning against Dean's shoulder, Frank wormed his hand inside the underwear which was probably stretched to its limits already. He wrapped his hand around the thickening shaft, massaging up and down sensually.

Dean groaned. "Mmmm, Baby."

"I got ya," Frank whispered. "Can I take care of you, Babe?"

Dean's eyes fluttered as he moaned, rolling on to his back while Frank moved out of the way. He lifted his hips so Frank could pull the poor stretched underwear off. Thanks to Dean's large belly, Frank had to sit off the the side instead of between Dean's legs. He took just the crown into his mouth, swirling his tongue around until Dean moaned again. Strong fingers wound in his hair but did not push or direct, allowing Frank to do whatever he pleased, just showing appreciation. He thrust down, taking as much of Dean in as he could, while his fingers teased Dean's opening. Legs which used to be pure muscle and sculpted to perfection, but now had soft patches along the thighs and hips, spread wide for him. Frank kept up his ministrations until Dean's breathing was heavy and erratic and he was able to force his spouse to climax both ways.

Satisfied over pleasing Dean, Frank nudged him back on his left side. Frank curled around him again and slipped his hand between Dean's thighs from behind. Dean moaned and lifted his leg in response. Giving an intense blow-job like that always got Frank really, really worked up. He guided his desperate cock inside Dean's warmth, and nearly lost it then and there.

Frank gasped and clutched Dean tight in his arms, unable to move or thrust or anything. If he did now, he wouldn't be able to again.

"Frankie? Baby?" Dean asked in a breathless voice. "What's wrong?"

"Different," he whispered. "Hang on." Frank concentrated on holding it in, not coming just yet. Soon the intense feeling passed.

"Okay," Frank whispered as he turned to kiss along Dean's jaw. "I think I'm okay now."

"What was it?" Dean asked, strong hand reaching back to grab him by the ass and help set their pace.

"Felt so different," Frank said as he thrust in again. "So damn good. I almost lost it."

Dean chuckled. "Guess we're gonna have to remember this one, huh?"

"Mmmm..." Frank moaned agreeably. He worked Dean's right leg over his, allowing him to thrust in all the way. "Best stress relief there is."

He expected another comeback from Dean for that one, but his spouse was breathing erratically again. Already? Yep, the soft wet flesh pulsed all around him. There was no pulling back this time. Frank pushed in hard and deep, revelling in the amazing feel. Another thrust and Dean drained all he had.

Frank pulled out but he remained plastered to Dean's back, wanting and enjoying this closeness.

"Really need to remember this one," Dean mumbled as a strong hand grabbed and squeezed his ass.

"Yes, dear," Frank mumbled, already half-asleep.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40** – _no gutter time, but a little action and some schmoop! (I tried writing a chapter about when Sam came home from the hunt to a sick Serene, but it was just too damned boring. We needed to get back to Dean and Frankie!)_

Frank opened the front door of his house, expecting to hear all kinds of things: television, Dean and Sam arguing, Serene complaining, John shouting for everyone to shut the hell up, and the normal rustle of too many people living under one roof. Instead it was silent. There was a lump on the couch. Curious about why his house was quiet and empty, Frank approached the lump. The lump turned out to be Serene under a blanket, sound asleep. Since the strep had kicked her ass, she had been living with them, in Sam's room. Every day after her shift, Serene crashed on the couch for an hour or two nap.

Frank shook her shoulder until she woke. "Wha? Frank? What's wrong?"

"Where is everyone?" Frank asked, motioning to the silent house.

Serene blinked bleary eyes at him. "Oh, uh, didn't Dean have a doctor's appointment?"

Frank checked his watch again. "He should've been home an hour ago. Where's Sam?"

Serene rolled her eyes.

"Oh, right. Sam went with him. I guess it's too much to ask if Sam drove?" Well, he always was an optimist.

Serene snorted loudly. "Dream on, Frankie," she said as she rolled back to her sleeping position.

"It's Frank," he told her sternly as he prodded her shoulder again. "And you need to get up. Isn't it your laundry day?"

"Shit," Serene hissed, throwing her blanket off. "Thanks, Frank. I'm out of clean idiotic waitress outfits."

"I hear Sam thinks they're sexy," Frank called after her as she headed for the front bedroom.

"It's not the outfit," she shouted back.

Frank shook his head as he tossed his store i.d. on the kitchen table. He dumped the contents of his pockets next to it. For some strange reason Dean liked for him to keep his wallet out in plain sight, as if it represented the fact they had no secrets. Whatever kept Dean happy these days was perfectly fine with Frank. Those pregnancy hormones were a bitch.

A knock on the door drew his attention.

"Frank?" Serene called from the bedroom.

"Yeah, I got it!" he shouted back. Today's paper was in Dean's easy chair turned to a human interest article. Well, he was human, and it looked interesting. Frank picked it up on his way to the door, skimming the first paragraph about a team investigating haunted houses in Chicago. Uh-oh. He did not like the sound of this. Frowning over the article, Frank opened the front door.

"Yeah?" he asked, eyes still pinned to newsprint. Over ninety percent of the time it was someone he had known his entire life at the door. When his visitor did not respond, Frank looked up. The eyes which met his were an oddly familiar, washed out blue. "Can I help you?" he asked curiously.

The man on his doorstep stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Hi, Frank."

The voice. He would know that voice from his past anywhere. "Jim?" Frank asked incredulously. "Is it really you?"

The smile crossing the man's face brought out all the features he had once known intimately well. "Yeah, it's me. Uh, mind if I come in?"

"Come in?" Frank glanced back. Well, the house was essentially empty, except for Serene. "Uh, sure. Come on in." He stepped aside, the paper forgotten in his hand. Jim headed for the couch and Frank was gripped with a spasm of panic. "Kitchen!"

Jim turned around slowly, looking at him curiously. "Kitchen?"

Frank rushed ahead to pull out a chair at the table. "Yeah, right here." He patted the hard wooden chair, then he remembered to smile.

Jim shrugged as he followed to the kitchen table. He sat down as he favored Frank with a broad smile. "I guess you're kind of surprised to see me."

"More like shocked," Frank admitted, sitting across from Jim. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jim sighed as his eyes darted away, studying the far wall. "Uh, well, I, uh..."

"Frank!" Serene shouted from the bedroom. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine!" he called back.

Jim's eyebrows went up in question and he jerked his head in the direction of Serene's voice. "Now I'm shocked," he said in a low voice.

Frank chuckled, shaking his head. "My brother-in-law's girlfriend," he explained. "Last month, he was working out of town and..."

"Brother-in-law?" Jim interrupted. He laughed at Frank. "You're married? Really? Where'd you go, Canada? I didn't think you liked flying."

"Three years," Frank replied stiffly. He did not like the way Jim laughed at him, not in his own damn house. "And we didn't fly anywhere."

Jim shook his head and sighed. "I'm really screwing this up." He lifted his head to look at Frank. "Look, the reason I'm here is... I want to..." Jim chewed his bottom lip for a moment. "Wow, this is harder than I thought it'd be," he mumbled.

"What is?" Frank asked.

"What is what?" Serene's voice invaded the kitchen. "Frank, can you grab the door for me? Honestly, I don't understand why you don't have a washer and dryer in the house." She paused in the entry of the kitchen, arms loaded with dirty laundry. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize we had company."

"It's okay," Frank muttered as he jumped up to open the front door for her.

Serene paused in the entryway. "Frank," she said softly, "who is that?"

"An old friend from college," he told her, giving her a soft push out the door.

Serene was still looking at him when he closed the door. The last thing he needed was for her to know who the hell Jim was, at least not until he found out what the man was doing here.

"So," Frank said as he marched back to the table, "what brings you here, Jim?" He grabbed the closest kitchen chair and spun it around. Straddling it, Frank sat down with his arms resting on the chairback.

"You've, uh, changed," Jim told him, eyeing the way he was sitting in his chair. Well, it was his house and his chair; he should be able to sit in it any damn way he pleased.

"That's why you're here?" Frank demanded. "To tell me I've changed?" Yeah, okay, so he still harbored a few grudges here and there. Who didn't?

"Uh, no." Jim took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he spoke again, it was slowly with each word carefully pronounced. "I came to apologize."

Frank waited until Jim opened his eyes again. "What for?"

Jim's eyebrows drew together and his forehead furrowed. "What do you mean, what for?" he demanded.

The front door opened, interrupting any response Frank might have had.

"Well, that'll take about half an hour," Serene announced loudly. She moved swiftly into the kitchen area. Once she was at the table, Serene leaned over with her hand outstretched. "Hi, I'm Serene. And you are?"

"Jim," he said, taking her hand. "Frank and I knew each other in college."

Serene frowned and Frank imagined he could see the wheels spinning in her head. "Jim in college. There's only one Jim from college I can think of Frank ever mentioning, but he..." her voice trailed off as she gave Frank a questioning look.

Frank nodded once. It was the same Jim. Indecision crossed her face. "Well, it's my turn to make supper," Serene offered, though she knew perfectly well it was his turn, so she had to be doing it in order to allow Frank the opportunity not to be left alone with Jim. In that instant any and all residual hard feelings for her washed away. "But it's still a little early if you'd rather I go read my book. The boys should be home any time now."

Ah, and another 'out' was offered. Bless her.

"You can go read," Frank told her. The subtle raised eyebrows 'are you sure' was not lost on him. "It's fine," he assured her. "You can start supper in ten or fifteen minutes, if you like."

Serene flashed them both a smile without warmth, her working smile, before leaving the room. Frank waited until he heard the bedroom door close before speaking again.

"Apologize for what?" he asked again, returning his attention to the man seated at his kitchen table.

"For the way we left things," Jim said slowly. "Well, the way I left things."

Frank stiffened and his gaze hardened on Jim. Honestly, he would have been perfectly happy never to bring it up. In his lifetime.

"Look, Frank, I know it was really inexcusable. I do. I have no excuse. I was just young and dumb and, well, scared." Jim's eyes dropped to the table as he talked.

"Scared?" Frank demanded, careful to keep his voice low in case Serene had one ear pressed to the door. "I was the one who had the god-damned heart attack."

Jim sighed heavily. "I know, I know." He raised his head again. "You're really looking good, by the way. Lost some weight, huh?"

Frank grit his teeth together and took a deep breath. He imagined he could feel his blood pressure rising. "Among other things," he ground out. "Get back to you being scared."

Jim shrugged again. "I was what? Barely twenty-one? I couldn't imagine having to live with the threat of someone I cared about being susceptible to heart attacks looming over everything I did for the rest of my life. It seemed like I would be living in this huge dark cloud. I couldn't do it."

Frank rested his chin on the back of his hands. "So you sent me flowers with a card that said 'Get Well Soon, I can't see you again'?" He shook his head at Jim. "That was pretty shitty, dude."

"I know, I know," Jim repeated, leaning forward on the table. "That's why I'm here. To apologize." He spread his hands wide. "So? Am I forgiven?"

Frank frowned at him. "You came all the way out here just to apologize? To me?" He shifted to lean on his elbow so he could scratch along his jaw. "Why don't I believe that?"

He watched Jim take another deep breath before speaking. "Well, I did want to ask you about something else, but now that I'm here, I don't think I should."

Frank drummed his fingers against his chairback. "Spit it out already," he demanded. Yeah, he was really going to have to avoid a blood pressure check tonight if he wanted to keep his job.

"I swear, I never thought I'd find you all...domesticated," Jim said with a broad sweep of one arm. "You were such a party animal in college."

Frank motioned impatiently for him to say it, whatever the hell 'it' was.

Jim smiled at him and Frank remembered how, once upon a time, that smile seemed to be the one thing he lived for.

"Well," Jim said slowly and nervously, "I kind of wondered, if you were interested... I mean, if you'd like... Uh..."

The sound of the Impala pulling into the garage was the sweetest noise Frank had ever heard in his life. "Excuse me," he mumbled as he rushed to the door.

Relief filled him the moment he heard bickering between Sam and Dean.

"No, and you're not going to tell him either," Dean was saying.

"Like hell I won't!" Sam snapped. "He deserves to know!"

"Know what?" Frank asked as he headed for the driver's side. Dean had a lot of trouble getting out of cars these days. Dean made a sour face, but he allowed Frank to pull him to his feet.

"That Dean isn't allowed to..." Sam started to explain when Dean cut him off.

"Go running," Dean said fiercely as he shot Sam a glare over the car.

Frank just stared at Dean for a moment. As if he could run with a waddle that bad! "I think you're a little front-heavy for running anyway, Babe."

Dean gave him a tight smile. "That's why it's not allowed."

"What kept you two?" Frank asked, steering to a hopefully less dangerous topic.

"Freaking Nazi doctor," Dean mumbled murderously as he headed for the house.

"The doc had Dean go in for a little physical therapy, that's all," Sam said with a wave of his hand. When Frank kept looking at him, he added, "For his shoulder."

"Ah." Frank replied. He walked behind Dean and motioned with his head at his spouse's back. Sam shrugged. He mouthed the word 'No', followed by a mime of lifting something heavy.

Frank nodded in agreement. 'How heavy?' he mouthed back.

Sam cast a guilty look in Dean's direction, so this must be the source of the conflict. Still keeping an eye on Dean, he held up ten fingers. Frank waited for more, but Sam shook his head. Well, no wonder Dean was pissed! Not allowed to lift more than ten pounds? Good grief, that was close to telling him he couldn't eat pizza. Oh, the next few days would be just loads of fun, wouldn't it?

Dean threw open the door to the house as Frank hurried to catch up. "What else did the doctor say?" he demanded as Sam came in just behind him.

"Everything's fine, right on schedule," Dean said slowly, his attention riveted to something inside the house. "Uh, Frankie?"

"What?" Frank peered over Dean's shoulder. Crap. He kind of forgot about Jim. "Oh, right. Dean, an old friend of mine from college dropped by. Complete surprise." He stressed how complete of a surprise it was.

Dean gave him a curious look before waddling to the kitchen table. "Dean," he said and for a split second Frank wished Dean's voice was deeper, the way it sounded on testosterone. When a frown flickered across Jim's face, evident if brief disapproval of Dean, Frank was ashamed for even thinking he wanted Dean any other way than exactly how he was this second.

"Jim," the other man replied as he shook Dean's hand. When Jim grimaced before wrenching his hand away, Frank grinned shamelessly. Yep. Pure Dean. God, he loved being married.

Sam pushed in beside Dean to meet Jim as well. Frank noticed Sam did not bother to so much as shoot Dean a dirty look for what he did.

"Sammy!" Serene flew out of the bedroom. Sam barely had time to drop Jim's hand before she plowed into his chest.

"Hey, sweetie," Sam murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Now that nickname Frank really did not get. Serene? Sweet? Well, whatever. They were happy. Who the hell was he to judge?

Dean plopped down in the roller chair and rolled as close to the table as his stomach would allow. "Friends in college, huh?" he asked. Dean sounded conversational, but Frank knew better. Dean was fishing for information.

"Yeah," Frank replied. "Kind of the way you and Cassie were."

Dean's eyes widened and he saw Sam's body stiffen. "Uh, honey, don't we have something to do now?"

"Yep." Serene took Sam by the hand to lead back outside. "We're doing laundry."

Dean pushed away from the table. "Jim, would you mind terribly if I borrowed Frank here for about ten minutes? You're welcome to watch t.v. or read the paper. Whatever."

"Uh, sure." Jim shrugged at them.

Frank was led without further comment from the main room into their bedroom. Dean did not say a word or turn around, heading directly to the nightstand. Shit. He picked up the bloodpressure thingy before turning to face Frank.

"Sit down," Dean ordered, head inclining to the bed.

With a sigh, Frank sat. Dean wrapped the cuff around his arm before hitting the button. He took it three times before lifting Frank's face to look at him.

"Is it work or this Jim character?" Dean demanded.

Frank did not want to look down, to see what kind of reading he had to warrant this reaction. "I'm pretty sure it's just Jim."

"Lie down." Dean gave him a shove in the shoulder. Frank stretched out on the bed as ordered. When Dean tried to sit next to him, Frank slid over closer to the center of the bed. He didn't want to be too far away, however. Dean's body leaned heavily against his side, so Frank snaked an arm around his spouse's expanding hips. Dean leaned back, propped up on his elbow. Rough, calloused fingers gently caressed Frank's cheek. Without a single word spoken, not a reassurance or an understanding phrase, Frank started to relax. He let his eyes slip shut as Dean's fingers traced his facial features. Gentle soothing touches stroked from his brow, down beside his eyes and along his cheeks, a rough thumb rubbed his lips gently until Frank let out a small sigh of relief. All the tension which had been building from the moment he recognized the man standing on his front stoop, tension he had not known he had, washed away under Dean's careful ministrations.

As his mind started to drift to other places, to things he wanted to think about, like the baby, he heard a whirring noise and felt the blood pressure cuff tighten around his arm. When the clicking and ticking noises stopped and there was no pressure around his arm, Frank opened his eyes. "Well?" he asked.

Dean smiled at him. "Much better." There was a ripping noise as Dean removed the cuff. "So do I kick the asshole out or what?"

Frank returned the warm smile. "Nah, I think I can handle it now." But he did not want to move, not quite yet. "What else did the doctor say? Any new restrictions I should know about?"

Dean groaned as his fingers continued their soothing track on Frank's face. "No heavy lifting, not even Ben. I mean, the kid's a butterball, but he's not that heavy!"

"Were you planning to babysit again?" Frank asked slowly. Dean had an innocent look on his face as he shrugged and avoided eye contact, so that was a 'yes'. "Then meet Lisa at my parents' house. If the butterball needs to be picked up, my mother can do it. Why does Lisa need a sitter?"

Dean focused on him again. "Christmas shopping." He pressed his palm against the side of Frank's face. "Are you sure you don't want me to kick him out? Because if you don't need me, I'm taking a nap."

Frank lifted up for a quick kiss. "No problem, Babe. If I get rid of him in the next half hour, can I join you?"

Dean yawned as he stretched out on his side. "Just let me sleep for at least an hour." He kicked his leather slippers off onto the floor.

Frank set the slippers out where Dean could slide his feet back into them from the side of the bed. He looked down at Dean's slack face. How the hell did his spouse manage to fall asleep so damned fast? Frank snagged the extra blanket to cover him up before heading back out to the main rooms.

He found Sam sitting at the table chatting with Jim. Serene was not in sight.

"Your girlfriend is going to get jealous," Frank said as he sat down with them.

"I don't think so," Sam replied with a fast a smile. "She's the one who sent me in here. Good thing, too, since Dean had you tied up in there." A quizzical, teasing look crossed Sam's face. "He did quit using the rope, didn't he?"

"Why?" Frank asked as an unbidden grin twisted his mouth. "Need it?"

Sam grinned back. "I might."

"The cuffs don't chafe nearly as much," Frank informed him. "You might want to try those instead."

Sam winked as he stood. "Thanks for the advice, Frank. I'll keep it in mind."

He was really starting to like Sam. Sam might not make a great first impression, but his brother-in-law had been growing on him.

"I'll be doing laundry if you need anything," Sam called out as he walked towards the front door.

"Sam!" Frank called out as a fresh innuendo came to him. "If you need a car, use mine. You know how Dean is about his baby."

"Yeah." Sam turned to face them briefly. His eyes met Frank's as he said, "I know."

Stunned, Frank could only watch as Sam left the house. Did Sam mean what it sounded like he meant? Really?

"Frank!"

Slowly, he turned his head towards the source of the sound. Oh, right. Jim the Jackass. "Huh?"

"I said what was that all about? Dean and his baby?" Jim asked, motioning to the front door.

"Oh. Well, sometimes Dean calls his car baby," Frank replied. He decided to keep who else Dean called baby to himself. And as for The Baby? Ha. Demons fresh from Hell couldn't torture it out of him, especially if it might mean embarrassment for Dean. Jim would be long gone soon enough. He hoped.

Speaking of...

"So why are you still here?" Frank asked, doing his level best not to allow himself to get all worked up again. "You came to apologize. Mission accomplished." He leaned back in his chair. "Now what?"

Jim glanced around before clasping his hands together on the table. He cleared his throat as his gaze locked with Frank's. "I was hoping we could try again. Maybe pick up where we left off, or start over. Whatever you wanted."

Frank stared in disbelief. It was several moments before his voice worked again. "Pick up where we left off? Are you insane?" he hissed. Frank glanced nervously at his bedroom door. "Do you have any idea what Dean would do if he heard you?" he demanded.

Jim snorted derisively. "Nothing. C'mon, Frank. The guy is huge." He blew out his cheeks and held his hands in front of him, mimicking Dean's large belly. "How much beer does it take?"

Frank's eyes narrowed on Jim. "On his worst day, Dean is ten times the man you could ever be. Now get the hell out of my house."

"You always were too..." Jim sighed heavily. "Emotional. Look at this logically, Frank. I have a great job, car, and a decent sized house." He wrinkled his nose in distaste as he looked around. "I have no idea why you agreed to live here. And this neighborhood..." He rolled his eyes. "I'm up for a big, big promotion." He smiled broadly. "You'd never have to come back to this crappy little town again."

Well, so much for keeping his blood pressure down.

"I said," Frank repeated as he stood, "get the hell out of MY house." He slammed both fists on the kitchen table. "Now!"

Jim stood slowly as his eyes seared into Frank. "I thought that since I had the money to take care of you, you might appreciate the fact I came all the way here for you."

That tore it. Frank marched across the room to the far corner where his old softball bat stood. "To get in shape, I started playing ball a few years ago." Frank swung the bat through the air, enjoying the swishing noise it made. "My batting average wasn't great, I hit the ball maybe once during a game," he said. "But when I did..." Frank sliced the bat in Jim's direction. "It was almost always a homerun. There's one ball they never found."

He locked gazes with Jim. "So, do you think you're going to be a strike? Or a home run?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Frank, I know you. You would never-"

Frank swung again, this time aiming for Jim. Jim leapt out of the way, eyes wide. His face registered his amazement.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Not bothering to speak, Frank swung his weapon of choice again. And again. Each time Jim managed to barely jump away. At the front door, Jim fumbled with the doorknob.

"Better hurry," Frank taunted, grinning. "I've been wanting to hit one out of the park all month."

Jim wrenched the door open and ran outside. Frank watched from the doorway as Jim raced to his rental car. Sam waved to him from the garage. Frank waved back before closing the front door.

Bat still clutched in his right hand, Frank let himself in to their bedroom. He rested the bat against the inside doorframe. Frank kicked off his shoes before crawling on the bed beside Dean, who was miraculously still asleep. He breathed Dean's scent in deeply as he snuggled close.

"Baby?" Dean mumbled.

"Hmm?" Frank pressed closer.

"Do I need to get rid of the jackass?" Dean asked.

"Nah," Frank breathed. "I took care of it."

"Any problems?" he asked in a voice heavy with sleep.

"Nothing to worry about," Frank assured him, unable to really get close enough to feel better. "Go back to sleep." One hand slipped under Dean's shirt to rest on warm skin over the expanding abdomen, their growing child. There was a hard bump against his hand. Dean's head lifted at the same moment as his. Dean's wide happy grin was infectious.

"I guess you felt that one," he said with shining eyes.

Frank kept his hand in place. Twice more, in quick succession, his hand was kicked. "Whoa," he breathed as sheer amazement filled him. "That is so cool."

Dean chuckled. "You should try it from this side."

Frank snuggled close again, nuzzling Dean's neck as they laid down together. "I love you," he whispered. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Dean's chuckle was slow and sleepy. "God, you're such a girl." Just as Frank's eyelids were growing too heavy to hold open, he heard Dean's voice again. "Me too, Frankie." With the assurance he really didn't need, Frank was able to fall asleep.


	41. Chapter 41

Okay, the first part of this chapter is by special request for **_Silver Ruffian_**. Girl, I don't know what you've been reading (actually, she's shown me - it isn't pretty), but if you really want to see this, here it is. I feel I must apologize because not only did I incorporate this weird request, but I made it make sense within the story too. What is wrong with me??

**Chapter 41**

The gladiator's bare chest glistened in the late morning sun. Dried blood covered one shoulder from a glancing blow delivered by one of his early morning opponents. Deep, mysterious green eyes found Frank's greedy gaze, stilling the world around him. The famous gladiator, renowned throughout Rome, approached his box. A strong hand ran over the short, dusty hair before those green eyes met his again.

Without pausing, the mighty gladiator leapt up to his box, climbing over the peasants below. Joyous shouting accompanied the unorthodox end to today's matches. One bronzed arm reached over the top, followed by a second and then a handsome face. The warrior smiled and his mouth opened to speak, his voice barely audible over the cheers of the crowd.

"Master." It was a plea for praise from the mighty gladiator, from the hero of Rome. The hero heard no praise unless it was from his lips.

He leaned forward to place his lips near the gladiator's ear, to be certain he could be heard. "Your reward will come later, after you escort me home." He placed a single kiss on his gladiator's cheek so there would be no misunderstanding.

Those green eyes fixed on him again, alight with anticipation. The gladiator climbed all the way into his box and held out a hand. He took it, the warrior pulling him up to a stand. Before they could leave, the finest soldier in Rome ran a hand along his cheek, whispering what he most wanted to hear.

"Frank! You're late for work!"

His eyes flew open to take in his bedroom, the flashing alarm clock on the headboard of his bed, and a pillow headed straight for his face. Shit.

Frank groaned as he tossed away the pillow. "Right in the middle of the best damn dream, too," he grumbled as he pushed himself out of bed.

"Which one?" Dean called out, way too chipper for this early in the morning, so those hormones had to be running rampant again. "Tropical beach, or that stupid Roman warrior one?"

Frank really could not help the stupid grin on his face when Dean said 'Roman warrior'. Dean laughed and rolled his eyes. "Dude, no more of those late-night swordfests for you."

He stretched before walking up behind Dean and that cute damn waddle. Frank wrapped his arms around his Dean and pulled his spouse back against his chest. "You were lookin' pretty good."

"Not like a frigging whale?" Dean demanded, but his body leaned into Frank's.

"Never," Frank promised, holding him tight. "I've never found whales attractive."

Dean snorted and a hand reached back to slap Frank in the side of the head, gently. "Go on, you're running late already."

Frank glanced back at Dean's pleased expression before heading for the shower. What was so hard about keeping a pregnant person happy? Why did all those married guys he knew with kids gripe so much?

After his shower Frank rushed through dressing, planning to pause just long enough to grab a travel cup of coffee to go. He could grab something to eat at work from the vending machine if he got desperate. When he stepped into the kitchen, he found Dean leaning against the kitchen counter with both hands making a strange face. Frank stared, wondering what in the hell was going on and forgetting the fact he was already five minutes late for his shift.

Dean's knuckles were white from gripping the countertop so hard and his eyes were squeezed shut. Frank felt rather than saw Sam walk up behind him. Sam started to press by, but Frank stopped him with an outstretched arm. This was his territory.

"Dean?" he asked gently, still not moving any closer.

"Hang on," Dean grunted through clenched teeth. Finally he breathed in deep and opened his eyes. He looked startled when he found both of them watching. "It's nothing," he insisted with a shrug. "Just those false contraction thingys. Been happening all morning."

"Have they been getting better or worse?" Sam demanded, stealing the very question on the tip of Frank's tongue.

Dean shrugged, pouring coffee into a travel mug. "Here you go, Frankie," he said as he turned around. He winced briefly before handing it over.

"Dean," Frank said slowly. "When they started, were they far apart or close together?"

Now Dean appeared to be thinking it over. "I think they were kind of far apart."

"And now?" Sam demanded from over his shoulder. Frank clenched his jaw to prevent him from snapping at his brother-in-law.

"Well, there's more of them, but I wouldn't call that closer together," Dean said as he shot Sam a glare.

"Why not?" Frank asked in a conversational tone, not wanting to put Dean on edge.

"Well, because some of them are real little, so they probably don't count," he said with another shrug.

"Do they start around the front, or from your back?" Frank asked, wanting to be clear.

"Well..." Dean scratched at the back of his neck as his brow furrowed. "Yeah, usually from the back."

"We're going for a ride," Frank announced, taking his coffee from Dean. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

"Frankie, you're already running late," Dean protested. "We don't have time to go riding around."

"We're not," Frank stated as he stepped forward to grab Dean by the arm. "Get your shoes and coat. We're making a trip to the ER."

"What the hell for?" Dean demanded as Frank used his free hand to steer his stubborn spouse out of the kitchen.

"Because you're in early labor," Sam said from behind them. Dean was right, Sam did way too much research.

"No, I'm not!" Dean snapped, trying to turn around but Frank held on tight. He spotted Dean's slippers by the couch.

"You might be," Frank argued gently, "and I'd rather be sure you weren't than worry about you all day long. Do you have any idea how much that would make my blood pressure go up?" No, he was not above emotional blackmail when it came to Dean's and the baby's health.

Dean gave him a hard glare as he shoved his feet into his slippers. "Fine," he growled, "but only because you promised."

Frank nodded earnestly. A deal was a deal. Sam was giving him a strange look, so he guessed Dean had actually not told his brother about that one. Amazing. He had even confided in Lisa about it. Frank waited nervously by the front door, his coffee still clutched in one hand, while Dean pulled on his coat. Sam followed closely out to the car, so Frank supposed there was no shaking him off.

"Where's Serene?" he asked, hoping Sam would take the hint.

"At work," Sam replied as he climbed into the backseat of Frank's car. "She had the breakfast shift, so she had to be there by five this morning."

Well, so much for the pipedream of Sam staying behind while they went to the ER. Honestly, Frank knew better, but he was the eternal optimist. He did not speed the whole way, despite the fact Frank felt like pressing the accelerator all the way down and holding it there. He wanted to be there – NOW – and have a doctor tell him everything was fine and it really was false labor. Frank wished he could believe that and just head in to work, but now he was pulling up outside the ER entrance.

Actually, having Sam along was just about to pay off. Frank pulled right up to the emergency room doors and stopped the car. "You two get out," he said, turning to face Sam. "Make sure they know he's pregnant and experiencing labor pains and that we're being cautious. I'll park the car and be there in a minute."

Sam nodded seriously as he bolted out of the back seat. Dean gave him a lingering, uncertain look before reaching for the door. "This is silly," he grumbled.

"Maybe," Frank said firmly, "but I've been through this with Lisa already and now I want to play it safe. Don't you?"

Dean's deep green eyes settled on his again. "Yeah. I guess. But if it is false labor they're going to accuse me of overreacting and the whole damn town is gonna know and-"

"And everyone will know it's all my fault," Frank interrupted, "because I made you come. Now get out of the car, Dean."

Dean sighed and opened the car door. Sam waited impatiently in the cold wind outside to pull his brother out of the car and into the ER. Frank made sure they were both headed for the doors before rushing off to park.

By the time he blew through the ER doors neither Dean or Sam were in sight. He started for the admissions desk to ask about them, but a nurse appeared in front of him.

"Frank, come with me," she said as she headed for those notorious double white doors. Frank followed close on her heels. "There's already a doctor examining Dean now," she explained. It took him a moment to recognize her.

"Janie?" he asked. "I didn't know you worked the ER."

She flashed him a quick smile. "I started about two years ago, and I love it. I got kind of burned out with trying to do administration duties and decided to get back to the real action."

"Good for you," Frank told her as they reached Dean's glass enclosure. A white privacy curtain had been pulled around the windows so Frank couldn't see anything except for Sam, who was standing just outside.

Frank motioned to the white curtain and waited for Sam to nod before going in. He found Dean hooked up to monitoring equipment (that was fast!) and wearing one of those stupid hospital gowns. A doctor was helping Dean lift his feet into those damn stirrups. Frank winced, hurrying to the other side of the bed so he could lend some moral support. Dean shot him a glare before gripping his hand tightly. Frank was pretty sure, either way, that he would be forgiven later.

When the doctor stood up from his examination and pulled off his gloves, his face was stern. "You're not dilated, so these are probably pre-term contractions. The fetal monitor shows the baby's heartrate is strong. Once I get the results back from the FFN," he held up a strange looking long object and Frank really did not want to ask what the doctor used it for, "I'll know for sure if we'll have to admit you. Your doctor is Doctor Smith-Jones?"

Dean nodded tightly, his eyes wide and jaw clenched tight. The doctor helped Dean out of the stirrups as he continued speaking. "I'll go notify her immediately. I'm going to have a nurse go ahead and start an IV and there's medication called Brethine we can try to stop the contractions. We'll get that started right away." He gave one of those fake doctor smiles before leaving.

"Damn it," Dean breathed out slowly. His gaze locked with Frank's and his free hand raised to shake a finger in Frank's face. "Don't you dare have a heart attack over this."

Frank smiled down at his favorite person on the whole planet. "Nah," he assured Dean with a shake of his head as he perched on the edge of the bed. "I'm feeling much better now that there are doctors looking after you."

"What's going on?" Sam demanded as he slowly entered the room with his eyes averted, no doubt so he wouldn't have to 'see' anything.

"He's definitely having contractions but the baby is fine," Frank replied calmly, wanting Dean to believe his assurances as much as he did. He directed Sam's gaze to the fetal monitor. "They're going to put in an IV and try some breathy medication."

"Breathy?" Sam asked, face registering his disbelief.

"It sounded something like that," Frank insisted. He glanced at Dean. "Right?"

"Right." Dean groaned as his head fell back against the pillow. "I hope they don't make me stay. Hospital food sucks."

Frank chuckled as he ran his thumb over the back of Dean's hand in soothing circles. "I'm sure we can talk Serene into bringing something up here for you if we need to."

Dean chuckled and the skin around his eyes crinkled as he grinned. "So now you're glad you made nice, huh?"

Frank snorted loudly at him. "Shut up."

"Frank? Why don't you go call work and let them know what's going on? I can stay," Sam offered.

Frank stared at Sam for a moment as the words sunk in. "Damn. I forgot all about work."

"Go on," Dean told him, giving him a mild shove. "I'll probably have even more flashy lights and cool hospital stuff by the time you come back."

Frank planted a kiss to Dean's temple before following their advice and calling in. See what happened when a perfectly good dream was so rudely interrupted? The whole day was destined to go to shit.

* * *

Sam waited until Frank was well out of earshot before pulling up a chair next to Dean's bed. "I like him."

Dean crooked an eyebrow at him. "That right? What brought this on?"

Sam shrugged as he gathered his thoughts. "He's a real nice guy and he's always thinking of you first." He chewed on his lower lip as he forced himself to look directly at his brother. "You deserve that, and I honestly don't think you've ever gotten it before."

A puzzled expression crossed Dean's face. "Never gotten what?" he started to ask, interrupted by his face tensing and both hands gripping the metal rails on the bed.

Sam waited anxiously for the contraction to pass. After a moment, Dean's face relaxed.

"Well?" Dean demanded.

Sam could not believe they were having this conversation while Dean was in premature labor. His family was seriously warped. "You've never had anyone think of you first, before anything else. Until Frank. That's the real reason I like him."

Dean stared hard at him for a long moment. A nurse bustled into the room pushing an I.V. on a rolling pole in front of her.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "After we have the IV in, I need to give you a shot. Hopefully it'll help with those pesky contractions." She smiled brightly at Dean.

Sam had never come so close to slapping a nurse before. He clenched his jaw as he watched her insert the IV needle into Dean's arm. She appeared to be competent. Then she gave him a shot in his upper arm.

"How long will this stuff take to work?" Dean asked in a whiny voice.

"It could take a while," she replied in the same chipper voice. The nurse smiled brightly before leaving.

"Damn. These hormones must really be messing with me," Dean said as he stared after the nurse.

"Why's that, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Because." Dean flung an arm in the departing nurse's direction. "Dude, she's a nurse and I forgot to check her out. I mean, when's the last time that happened?"

"You checked out all the nurses when Frank had the heart attack?" Sam demanded.

"Uh..." Dean's face blanked before his eyes focused on Sam. "No. I didn't." He slammed his head back into the bed. "Shit. It happened. I'm actually married."

Sam chuckled at his brother's discomfort. Leave it to Dean to focus on something other than the real problem. "I thought you'd been married for a while now."

Dean groaned as rolled his head to face Sam. "You know what I mean."

Sam shrugged as he kicked the visitor's chair back on two legs. "Yeah, I know. So what? You have a lot going on in your life right now. I'm sure your wandering eye will return when things settle down a little." He grinned as he thought of how long it could take. "In about twenty years."

Dean shot him a hard glare. "Ha-ha. You're hysterical." Then an amused expression crossed his face which sent a chill up Sam's spine. "You know, we haven't picked out a decorating theme for the baby. What about..." He paused dramatically. "Clowns."

Sam narrowed his eyes on his brother. "You wouldn't."

Dean flashed him a wide grin. "And a picture of one of those clown cars where they just keep on coming out. Hundreds and hundreds of clowns."

Sam crossed his arms defiantly. "And maybe I'll move in with Serene."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Geez, moody much? Besides, I think Frankie is starting to like having her around. I don't think Steve is moving back in anyway. He caught Miss Shelly trying to make tea with flour the other day, so he's trying to talk his girlfriend into moving in with her too."

Sam frowned over that. "Does she have insurance? It really sounds like there's something wrong with her, like maybe she had a stroke."

"Steve and I were talking about that the other day," Dean replied. "He set up an appointment for her next week. I guess you're driving."

It didn't take long for that to sink in. "I'm driving?" Sam repeated. "What do you mean, I'm driving?"

"I know my Nazi doctor, Sam. I guarantee this'll mean bedrest for at least a couple of weeks. She won't even want me riding in a car much less driving one." Dean sighed as his eyes pleaded with Sam to say 'okay.' "Miss Shelly needs somebody to take her. I was going to do it so Steve wouldn't have to take off work."

Sam thought it over. Well, she was a nice lady and Dean did seem kind of attached to her. "Fine," he agreed. "And assuming they don't keep you in here, I'll talk to your doctor about going with us."

One of Dean's eyebrows arched. "Have you met the woman? She's a freaking Nazi, Sam."

Sam returned Dean's hard look. "You know I've met her, and she's not that bad. She just likes playing it safe." He shrugged again. "I kind of like her, too."

Dean's eyes rolled all around. "Why? Because she's trying to look after me? Sheesh, Sam. What's this kick you've been on lately? I'm not broken!"

And here came those wonderful hormones. Where was Frank when he needed the guy to show up out of the blue?

"I never said you were broken," Sam argued, trying really hard not to trigger any of Dean's automatic defensive responses. "I said I like the fact there are people who want to look after you, especially Frank."

"Especially Frank what?" Frank's voice asked from the doorway. He pushed past the white privacy curtains.

Yeah, the guy would choose to show up now. But with the way Dean's face relaxed and the light that came into his brother's eyes when Frank walked in the room, Sam just couldn't feel irritated.

"Well? What'd I miss?" he asked as he sat on the edge of Dean's bed.

The overly smiling nurse returned before Dean could answer. "Time for another shot," she announced cheerfully. "Hi-ya, Frank! I was wondering if this was your Dean here."

Dean mumbled something and Frank gave him a gentle shove in the arm.

Frank beamed as he replied, "Yep. This is the one and only Dean in my life. You better be taking good care of him, Charlene."

"Or else what?" she asked, one hand on her hip. "Or you'll tell my momma on me?"

"Better believe it," Frank replied, still smiling.

Charlene laughed as she approached Dean with a syringe. "Honey, we'll do this one in your thigh, okay?" Sam's view was blocked by Frank's body as she pulled back the sheet and gave Dean the shot. "There ya go. Now we'll see about getting you home just as soon as we can, okay? The doctor will be back when in an hour or so with the results of the test and to check for dilation again. Depending on the results and if there's still no dilation, most likely they'll release you. Now don't count on it, the doctor might want to monitor you for a while, but I have a feeling you're going home today."

Charlene shifted her attention to Frank. "Tell Lisa I can watch the kids this weekend. I have a feeling Dean's going to be on restrictions."

"Will do. Thanks, Charlene," Frank said with a nod of his head. The overly cheerful nurse gave them all a bright smile before leaving.

"This is the strangest town," Sam said, not realizing he it was out loud.

"You said it," Dean agreed. "But I think I like it."

"Frank?" Sam asked as a fresh idea of how he could start fitting in a little better occurred to him. "What if I watch the kids at the house this weekend? Dean can supervise from his chair."

Dean tossed him a quick grin and wink behind Frank's back, so clearly Sam had made a good decision on this one.

"I'll talk to her," Frank promised slowly. "Are you sure? They can be a handful."

Sam shook his head at Frank. "Oh, they couldn't be any worse than Dean and I were. I'm sure, with Dean supervising, we'll be just fine."

"I can coordinate with Lisa," Frank told him. "We might be able to work it so I can be there at least part of the time, too. I'd really hate to stick you with both kids and Dean all afternoon."

"Hey!" Dean protested, shoving Frank. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Frank turned back to Dean. "Babe, don't even try. Sam knows you even better than I do. He understands."

Sam laughed at the expression on his brother's face. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Frank. I'll take you up on that."


	42. Chapter 42

Sorry for the delay. Holiday. Santa. Cleaning. Presents. Yadda-yadda. And this chapter is very clean. I'll try to make it up to you next chapter!

Okay, this chapter jumps over a couple months kind of quick. Sorry about that, but there is some real plot coming that I'd like to get to. Besides, somebody told me she was anxiously awaiting the 'blessed' event!

**Chapter 42**

Sam pulled up in the Impala with Dean's prescription. The medication was Brethine, what Dean and Frank were calling 'breathy stuff'. He had been relieved to learn it had a real name.

When Sam entered the house, he could hear muffled voices. Deciding they had to be in the master bedroom, he hesitated on what to do with Dean's meds. Sam had just decided to leave them on the kitchen table when he heard his name called.

"Sam! In here!" Dean's voice carried clearly into the den.

Really hoping it was safe, Sam pushed open the bedroom door. Dean was sitting up against the headboard, pillows behind his upper back and head. Frank sat cross-legged next to him and they both looked relaxed.

"Here." He tossed the bag next to Dean on the bed. "So what's going on in here?"

Dean patted the side of the bed Frank wasn't on. "Just talking about this weekend. Frank was wondering if you knew what you were getting into." He grinned. "I told him no, that's why you volunteered."

"But you've watched them before, right?" Sam asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah. No sweat," Dean assured him with the same grin. "It'll be fun."

Sam looked over at Frank. "You know, I get nervous when Dean says fun with that look on his face."

Frank's face split in a beaming smile. "That's because you know him so well." He chuckled deeply as Dean's eyes sparkled with mischief. Yeah, he was in deep trouble.

* * *

Sam wondered why he thought this was a good idea in the first place. Lisa's kids were insane! The little girl insisted on following him around to tell him about boys who ate boogers and girls who pushed other girls off the swings during recess. The fat little boy only wanted to play cars – on everything. There were even tiny tire tracks on the walls.

Dean, however, really seemed to be in his element. Without moving from his easy chair, big brother had complete control over the entire house. He egged the girl on, wanting her to elaborate on her stories while playing crash-cars with the boy on the arm of his chair and sometimes on his own thigh.

Sam leaned against the wall as he watched the three interact. Dean was a natural parent. Funny how it was so hard for him to admit it, even to himself. He smiled as the little girl, Jennie, handed Dean a teacup. When Dean pretended to drink from it as he asked her to elaborate on her story about getting even with some obnoxious girl at school, Sam realized what his problem was. He was jealous.

He was jealous of Frank. He was jealous of how the kids loved Dean. Dean was _his_ brother and for years it had been just them. They had moved around so much growing up, there had been no competition for his brother's attention, much less his affection. Now he was stuck in one place where everyone not focused on hurting Dean wanted to be his best friend. It was a lot to accept. But Sam did notice Dean looked around for him regularly, throwing him small conspiratorial winks and grins, like Sam should be enjoying this as much as he was. Well, Sam was good at pretending. He plastered on his best smile as he chased the fat kid around and pulled him away from the breakables and out of things he shouldn't be in.

When Frank arrived, finally, Sam felt such an outpouring of gratitude his smile and relief was genuine. Frank laughed at him before sitting in the middle of the den floor.

"Gee," he stated loudly with his huge, goofy smile, "I sure hope nobody tries to get me."

The little boy squealed loud enough to hurt Sam's ears as he ran for Frank.

"Sammy, watch this," Dean hissed at him.

The kid leapt on Frank's back. Frank reached over his shoulder to grab the round little boy then flipped him expertly over his shoulder into his lap. The boy laughed loudly, shouting "Again! Again!"

"Hungry?" Sam asked. "Want a sandwich or something?"

"Sure." Dean was still grinning at Frank playing with the kids in the floor. "Thanks."

Sam escaped to the relative safety of the kitchen for a few minutes, which allowed him the opportunity to examine his feelings. As he prepared Dean's sandwich, Sam decided that examining his feelings was crap. He did not want to know why he was jealous, only how to deal with it. Maybe he could ignore it and the jealousy would go away. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

He delivered Dean's sandwich and attempted to escape out back, but Dean waved him closer. "Sammy," he hissed, "couch. You gotta see what the kids do to Frank."

Sam reluctantly sat on the couch to watch the show. After a few minutes, despite himself, Sam was laughing heartily at the kids' antics. They kept trying to get the best of Frank, but Frank was just so damn big the little kids didn't have a prayer of knocking him down, much less pin him. They tried everything from one being a decoy while the other attacked to ganging up on him. The only thing Dean would not allow was for them to throw anything harder than a pillow.

When Lisa picked up the kids, Sam was a little sorry to see them go. And then he went to bed with the intention of sleeping until tomorrow.

* * *

Okay, it wasn't the first Christmas Dean had spent here, and definitely wasn't the first one with Sam, but it was the first Christmas here with Sam. Frankie splurged on the tree this year, buying a nice full real one. The tree skirt Frankie's grandmother, who passed away a while back, had made was wrapped around the base. Most of the ornaments were store-bought, but Frankie's mother had given them some Frankie had made when he was a kid. Dean thought it gave the tree a nice homey look. When he mentioned it, Sam had accused him of 'nesting.' Whatever the hell that meant.

Next year Santa would start visiting. Dean couldn't wait to make sled marks in the yard and boot prints in the house. He purposefully did not mention it to Sam, but Frankie loved the idea. They were already planning on leaving out carrots for the reindeer as well as cookies for Santa. Frankie found one of those 'Cookies for Santa' plates and bought it the other day.

Dean watched the lights blinking on their tree as he rested in his easy chair and rubbed his hands over his great expanding belly. Seven months. In about two more months or so there would be a tiny, helpless baby to take care of. And this time next year, the baby might even be able to open his or her own presents. Man, he had really started slowing down in the third trimester. When Frankie joined him in his walks, Dean was sweating by the end and Frankie was still strolling casually. He was the only one his walks benefited these days. A couple of times he had suggested Frankie go for a good run instead of joining him, but each time his suggestion was brushed off. Frankie walked one or two miles with him, however far he felt he could go that day, then after dropping him off at the house Frankie would go for a real run. By the time Frankie was done, Dean was often taking a nap. He really understood why pregnant women were so cranky, not that he was. Nope. Dean did his damnedest to make sure everyone got along, even if he had to knock a couple of heads together to accomplish it. That wasn't being cranky, it was being practical.

When the front door opened Dad came in, his arms laden with bags. Delighted Dad actually made it for the holidays, Dean started to get up to help but Dad gave him the 'don't you dare' face. "Sam called me," he said in a stern voice, chin jerking at Dean to keep his ass in the chair.

Great. Not only did the whole freaking town know, but Dad too? Fucking phone trees. All this freaking bed rest was seriously getting on his nerves too, not to mention the new no sex for at least two weeks stipulation. Stupid Nazi doctor.

Dad's duffel hit the floor first, before he closed the front door which was letting in some damned cold air. The door slammed shut and Dad turned around with a warm smile. He moved the other bags he brought in to set under the tree. Dean watched, not quite believing those bags were full of Christmas presents.

Dad winked at him as he picked up his duffel. "Don't worry, I got something for you, too." He disappeared into the front bedroom, Dad's room since Steve had moved in with Miss Shelly next door. Dean's eyes strayed to the bags under the tree. Something for him? Really? What would Dad have bought for him? A new gun? Nah, not with a baby on the way. Probably some kind of home protection charms or something.

Dad reappeared a few minutes later with a clean shirt and freshly washed face. "Bobby make it yet?" he asked.

"Bobby?" Dean asked blankly. "He's coming?"

Dad smiled broadly. "Of course he's coming. He even has plans to stay the duration. We're going to be bunkmates." Not willing to believe it, Dean stared at his father in utter disbelief. Dad walked over to stand beside him and plant one hand on his head. The man did not say anything, just leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "He should be here any minute. Holler at me and I'll help him carry in his stuff." Dad took his hand away. "You stay put. I'll be in the kitchen, I'm starved."

Damn, Dad was getting strange. Holy Crap! Dad and Sam would be in the same house for the next couple of months? Dean decided then and there the baby could come just as early as it wanted.

* * *

Sam had noticed Frank's blood pressure tests were more frequent now with Dad and Bobby living here, but Frank had not flunked one yet. As a matter of fact, according to Dean, his blood pressure was at a record low. He seemed to love all the attention Dean was getting and relieved by the fact there were at least two people with Dean at any given time. Frank smiled and laughed more, which Sam had not thought possible. And when Frank was happier so was Dean, and Sam was fine with that.

* * *

"Sam!" Dean called, his voice loud in the otherwise quiet house.

Sam groaned as he rolled out of bed. Now what the hell did his brother want? He was surprised Dean was not in the main room in that frigging easy chair. "Dean? What is it?"

When Dean didn't answer right away, Sam's alert meter went off. "Dean!"

"Kitchen!" Dean's voice sounded strained.

Sam ran to the kitchen, his bare feet making slapping noises on the wood floors. Dean stood leaning against the counter, every muscle in his face taut and his hands gripping the edge so hard his knuckles were white.

"Think you can find some clean pants for me?" Dean asked in the same strained voice.

"Clean pants?" Sam demanded, glancing down. It was true, Dean's jeans were soaked as if he had wet himself. Or... "Shit! Now?"

Dean nodded. "I'm not going with wet pants. Go!"

Torn between his desire to race his brother to the hospital and the rational side of his brain which told him there was no way Dean would leave the house looking like he had an 'accident', Sam stood in the doorway. Finally his brain engaged and Sam ran to Dean's room.

Crap! Which drawers were Dean's? Sam opened all of them until he hit the one holding maternity jeans. He grabbed them as he shouted, "Dad! Dad, wake the hell up!"

"I'm up!" Dad's voice came from right in front of him, in the kitchen. Sam ran in, jeans in one hand. "Come help your brother stand while I get him changed."

Okay, this was going to be creepy.

Dean was shaking his head. "No, Dad. I can do it."

Dad turned Dean's face to look at him. "Dean. Shut up." Dad nodded to Sam.

Sam clamped his hands on Dean's arms and closed his eyes. He felt Dean moving around a lot but he managed to keep Dean upright, despite the fact Dean slipped once.

"Okay, we're good," Dad announce. "Sam, you can open your eyes now."

Sam opened his eyes but did not let go, not right away. Dean tensed under his hands again.

"How long have you been having contractions?" Sam demanded.

"Months. Duh," Dean snapped.

Right, right. Sam kind of forgot about that part.

Dad led them to the door and grabbed Dean's packed bag, waiting and ready by the front door. "Sam," he was saying, "I'll drive. You call Frank from the car. We can pick him up on the way or meet him there."

"Meet," Dean insisted. When Dad gave him a questioning look, Dean explained, "He might need to go back to work. He'll need a car."

Dad chuckled. "Dean, there is no way he's going back to work before you and this baby are home. Trust me."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam behind Dad's back, but Sam silently agreed with Dad. For a change.

–

Sam's leg bounced nervously as he eyed the clock. Again. Two hours. He and Dad had been in this stinking maternity waiting area for two freaking hours.

"Easy, Sammy," Dad intoned. "Some things just take time." If he had to hear that one more time, Sam was going to slit his wrists.

Serene rushed in, hair a beautiful mess and her uniform more stained than usual. She sunk down into the seat next to him and grabbed his hand.

"No word yet?" she asked.

Sam shook his head, squeezing her hand. "I was thinking about asking Frank's sister to come up to harass the nurses, but I know it wouldn't..."

A baby's cry echoed in the hall. Sam's head snapped to the side. Oh, please, please, please, please...

"Sounds promising," Dad said with a huge grin. "Doesn't it, Uncle Sam?"

Sam grinned back at his dad. "I hope so, Gramps."

Dad's grin faded. "Gramps? I don't think I like Gramps. Granddad?"

Sam laughed at his dad's anxiety. "Yeah, okay. Granddad."

Dad nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Much better."

Dad was telling them, again, about how the fathers weren't allowed to be there when Dean and Sam were born. Sam was tired of hearing about it, but he knew it was Dad's way of passing the time and ignoring their collective nervousness. Sam almost missed the footsteps coming down the hallway toward them. He spun in his seat to see Frank standing there with a beaming face.

"They're mopping the floor, but you can come in now," he said. His eyes sparkled as he announced, "We have a baby girl."

Dad beat them all to Dean's room. He slipped on some blood in the middle of the floor, but he didn't fall, merely skidded to a halt beside Dean's bed. Dean looked drained and wiped out, but he held a precious bundle in his arms and he was smiling brighter than Sam had ever seen.

"How's my grandchild?" Dad asked in a soft voice, the tone usually reserved for when one of them was really hurt.

Dean shifted and pulled back the pink and blue blanket so they could see her face. "This is Liza Samantha," he told them.

Sam's eyes snapped to Dean's face. "Samantha?" he demanded.

"That's so sweet," Serene said. "And she's beautiful."

Dean beamed as Frank moved back beside his little family. One hand rested on Dean's neck as he leaned over to look at the baby.

"Where'd Liza come from?" Dad asked. He looked like he was itching to hold her.

"Well," Dean began slowly, "see, Dad, when two people care about each other..."

Dad's sharp laugh cut him off. "Smart ass," he snapped, smiling. "The name, Dean," Dad insisted.

Dean's head jerked toward Frank. "Frankie's sister, Lisa. We just swapped a z for the s."

"It's time," a nurse announced as she came into the room. "We have to take the baby to the nursery and check her out. Don't worry," she chided at the crestfallen look on Dean's face. "We're not keeping her. This will only take an hour or so." She gently removed the baby from Dean's arms. "You'll be home with this little angel before you know it."

Dean glared daggers at her back as she left. "Frankie?" he said softly.

Frank frowned as he leaned over. "Yeah, babe?"

"You know her, right?" Dean asked.

Frank shrugged. "Sure. Vicky Lynn. Why?"

Dean glanced up, his face hard. "I'm not waiting two hours."

Frank's eyebrows shot up then he nodded. "Yes, dear." He smiled briefly and ran a hand over Dean's head before leaving the room. Sam had the distinct impression the hospital staff would be putting up warning signs about them any day now. And he really wouldn't blame them.


	43. Chapter 43

Okay, it's short, but it starts in the right place – the gutter!!

**Chapter 43**

Two months later...

Dean woke with a heavy weight pressing down on him and something warm and wet traveling down his neck. He smiled as his eyes opened to find Frankie laying on him.

"Trouble sleeping?" he teased lightly.

Frankie grunted, not lifting his head from Dean's neck. "Too long," he mumbled against Dean's skin.

Dean's smile dropped away. "What's been too long?" he demanded. "We had sex a few hours ago."

Frankie lifted up to look him in the eye. "Guy sex," he said gruffly.

"And what's wrong with..." Dean's protest was cut off by Frankie's mouth crashing down on his.

When Frankie broke their kiss, thankfully because Dean was starting to wonder how long he could survive without oxygen, he held Dean's gaze with his amazing, startling blue eyes. "You're more than just a guy, Dean." His voice was raw with emotion. "We'll go slow, like the doc said." Frankie stroked a hand through his short hair. "Please, baby." He sounded like he was begging.

Dean couldn't take Frankie begging. Anything but that. He swallowed hard and nodded, hoping it wouldn't hurt like it did last time they tried.

"Real slow," Frankie promised with a broad smile. "And I want to try something a little different."

Dean had to grin at that. "Yeah?" he asked. "If it's anything like that sleeve thing," he said, referring to the stretchy cock sleeve which housed both of them while they writhed and ground against each other, face to face, "I'm definitely game."

Frankie's deep chuckle sounded so good to his ears. Now with Liza sleeping at least six hours a night, Dean had some energy available for Frankie.

"Good," Frankie said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Strip. I want you naked and on your knees." He rolled off of Dean.

Dean didn't have to be told twice. He yanked off his sleep shirt and shorts before kneeling on the bed, sitting back on his heels. Frankie motioned for Dean to move back against the headboard. Confused, he watched as Frankie rolled on his back and wriggled towards him. When he was close, Frankie nudged Dean to lift up so he could crawl underneath.

Holy shit. Was Frankie serious?

Dean watched closely as Frankie's face disappeared under him. Then he felt Frankie's tongue circling his opening. Dean closed his eyes as Frankie's tongue plunged inside of him. Oh, god, it was like Frankie knew exactly what he needed to loosen up, not to mention what he had been wondering about since the night they met.

He fell forward, holding himself up with outstretched arms as Frankie's tongue worked him over. Jesus, it felt good. Dean began to involuntarily thrust down. With the portion of his brain still functioning, Dean noticed Frankie thrust his tongue up each time Dean moved down. He settled into a steady rhythm, fucking himself on Frankie's tongue. His breathing became heavy and labored the closer he was. When his body tensed he moaned louder, his orgasm shooting through and washing over him.

God, Frankie hadn't eaten him out in a while, and never like that. Oh, they were so adding that to their regular routine. Frankie moved out from under him, until the big guy hung off the end of the bed and his face was directly under Dean's, upside down. With a grin, Dean lowered himself to kiss that wide grin, tasting himself all over Frankie's chin and inside his mouth. Thoroughly worked up now, his insides still pulsing erotically and his cock aching, Dean crawled around until he and Frankie were facing the same direction. Frankie scooted back up until they were both completely back on the bed.

Dean straddled Frankie's hips, really hoping it would be more pleasant this time. He moved down slowly, feeling the tip of Frankie's penis against his soaking wet opening. Using one hand, Frankie guided his cock inside as Dean continued to lower himself. This slow it wasn't exactly unpleasant. It did not feel good yet, but at least it did not hurt. Yet. Once Dean sat flush on Frankie, he waited a moment. He felt a twinge inside him and grinned down at Frankie.

"Nice," he said. "You can do that again."

Frankie grinned back, the really big, bright grin which seemed to make even a rainy day seem bright. God, those pregnancy hormones really did make him more girly. Then he felt Frankie's cock twitch inside him several more times.

"How are you?" Frankie asked, big hands running up and down Dean's arms.

Dean nodded. "Okay. So far." He took a deep breath. "Slow." Frankie nodded at him, hands still roving along his arms. "Okay. Good."

He began to move up and down, just a little. It was kind of uncomfortable, but didn't hurt too much. Dean bit down on his lower lip as he lifted up higher, coming slowly down on Frankie.

"Easy, babe," Frankie whispered. "Go slow."

Dean nodded, continuing going up and down, trying to ignore how strange it felt. It was almost like being a virgin again and having to learn how to have sex all over. Then it started feeling good. Then it felt really good. Dean laid down on Frankie, wanting more skin-on-skin action. His legs spread farther apart, he thrust down a little harder.

"Slow, baby," Frankie whispered, arms wrapped around Dean's back, one hand grasping his ass.

Dean shook his head before capturing Frankie's mouth in another demanding kiss. He let himself go, allowing his body to do what it wanted. Soon his body clenched again, a second orgasm ripping through him. Then Frankie flipped them and Dean wrapped his legs around the big guy's waist. Frankie's mouth landed on his neck, working down to the point where neck curved into shoulder and Dean gasped. Frankie's mouth stayed there, sucking hard and tongue swirling over the skin while he thrust slowly, driving Dean fucking crazy. Literally and figuratively.

"More, Baby," Dean grunted. "Faster." Frankie's thrusts kept his second orgasm going, on and on. God, had it ever been this good before? He couldn't remember, and didn't want to think about anything except how Frankie made him feel this second.

Frankie sped up, but just a little. It seemed to be enough, though, because Dean felt the hard cock inside him widen. He gasped at the sensation, his orgasm intensifying as warm liquid spread between their stomachs. Then one of Frankie's hands slipped down, grabbing his ass and holding tight. Frankie thrust harder and Dean felt his lover lose it inside him, causing him to clench tightly around Frankie. He thrust once more, allowing Dean to milk him thoroughly. Frankie's head dropped to rest on Dean's shoulder as he breathed heavily.

Dean ran both hands through Frankie's sweaty dark locks as his insides continued to pulse. His body shook a few times, aftershocks from his orgasms. Frankie's body pressed down on his, riding out the aftershocks with him. When he stopped, Frankie's head lifted and his amazing eyes locked with Dean's again.

"Say it," he demanded in a breathless voice.

Dean grinned. "Baby, when you're right, you're right."

Frankie flashed him another smile before rapidly kissing up his neck to his mouth. Then he froze. "Oh, shit," he swore softly, lifting his stomach to reach between them. "Can't believe I forgot..."

Dean felt Frankie's warm hand grasp his limp cock. Then Frankie grinned again. "I guess I don't always have to worry about it, huh?"

Dean shook his head, pulling Frankie flush against him and rubbing their abdomens together so Frankie could feel the results of his other orgasm. "Nope."

"Mmmm," Frankie moaned, rubbing against Dean. "I like that."

Dean laughed lightly. "Kinky bastard."

Frankie nuzzled him under the jaw. "Better believe it."

Dean glanced at their bedside clock. "Well, we only have a couple of hours before her highness wakes up. Guess we better get some sleep."

Frankie shrugged. "We could shower."

Tempting, but... "Sorry, Baby," Dean said, motioning for Frankie to curl up with him. "Slow, remember? That was a lot."

Frankie slid an arm under his neck and pulled Dean against his slick chest. Dean leaned back, enjoying the feel of sex coating their bodies and the adrenaline coursing through his system. As his sexual high dissipated, Dean's eyes pulled closed and he fell into a relaxed sleep.

* * *

Dean held the cranky infant to his shoulder, rocking her gently from side to side as he paced the room. Poor kid, only two and a half months old and she had a damned ear infection. He made up lyrics to some of his favorite tunes as he paced, trying to put Liza to sleep. Honestly, the Rock-a-Bye-Baby song? That was seriously twisted. Now his Rockin'-Baby song might not go platinum, but it was better than that crap.

Just as Liza started to settle down, probably from pure exhaustion (and Dean could relate), there was a knock on the door. Now what? Dean sighed as he angled back to the front door. The casserole parade ended about the same time Dad and Bobby left on a hunt about a month ago. It could be Frankie's sister Lisa, but she had a key and since the baby had been born had taken to letting herself in, for which he had been immensely grateful. The woman was a freaking godsend.

Dean pulled the door open, Liza balanced carefully against his shoulder. A middle-aged woman with straight brown hair and an eternally pissed off expression stood outside his door. He really hoped he was not supposed to know her, because Dean was only operating on about an hour's sleep for the past couple of days and he was screwed if he had to come up with a name.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

She gave him a curious look, her head tilting to one side as her eyes took in him and Liza. Dean felt like he used to when he was a teenager being examined by all those doctors. Her stare alone made him feel violated.

"Can I help you?" Dean repeated, resisting the urge to go find the thirty-eight he had hidden someplace in the bedroom.

"Oh, uh, sorry. You just caught me by surprise, that's all."

He waited, but she didn't seem up to offering more information. "Is there something you want?" Dean tried, now wondering if she were mentally deficient.

Her eyes closed and her head shook once, maybe mentally berating herself. If Serene were home, Dean would have her do it and save this lady the trouble. Then he might be able to get back to pacing. Liza whimpered on his shoulder. Dean released the door to rub her back, making certain one foot was behind the door and in position to slam it shut.

"I'm looking for John Winchester," she said. "But I have a feeling he gave me a bad address. Sorry to bother you." She turned away.

Dad? She was looking for Dad?

"Hold on!" Dean called out. The woman turned back around slowly, suspiciously. "What do you want with John Winchester?"

She stepped back up on the front stoop. "You know him?" she demanded. Dean could smell the sharp tang of cigarette smoke in her hair and clothes. "He left me this address in case I needed to find him and he wasn't answering his cell." She glanced around as if people were listening in on them. "I'd rather not discuss this out here," she whispered.

Dean frowned at her. Dad wasn't answering his cell? Damn, when was the last time Dad called them, anyway? He would have to ask Sam. Sam would know.

"Just a minute," Dean told her. "I have to, uh, pick up." He closed the door before she could protest.

Dean shifted Liza around a little so he could pull out his cell. Speed dial two was still programmed for Sam. He picked up on the second ring.

"Let me guess," Sam said, "formula or diapers?"

Dean cleared his throat as Liza whimpered again. He shifted the cell so it was trapped between his shoulder and jaw, where he could use both hands to rock her back and forth. "Some old chick is at the door, asking about Dad."

"Dad?" Sam sounded the way he felt. "How the hell did she find us?"

"Claims Dad gave her this address," Dean replied. "When's the last time he called, anyway?"

"Uh, last week, I guess," Sam said slowly. "I'm not sure. The past couple of months have been a kind of blur."

Dean chuckled. "No shit. I'm going to let her in, so get your ass home."

"Two minutes," Sam promised.

Dean moved Liza back on his shoulder to put his cell away. He kicked a path clear of baby toys from the kitchen to the front door before opening it again. The woman still waited on the front stoop, but now she appeared more curious than pissed off.

"You can come in now," he told her with a jerk of his head. "Kitchen."

She glanced around as she walked through the house. "This is picked up?"

"Compared to what it was, yeah," Dean snapped, his lack of sleep and short temper showing. "Have a seat."

She sat in one of the regular, hard wooden chairs. Dean pulled out the padded office chair, because he could rock back and forth in it.

"So who are you?" she asked. "I wasn't sure exactly what I'd find here, but a guy holding an infant wasn't it."

"Who are you?" Dean demanded instead of answering her question. "And what do you want with John Winchester?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "Ellen Harvelle," she said. "And I've got a lead on that demon of his."


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

Joe paused over the cutie they had tied to the motel room bed. He had curly blond hair and a killer smile, not to mention a great body. Joe looked to Gary for instruction.

Gary sat sprawled across a chair, one leg hanging over a chair arm, exposing his naked body. One hand stroked up and down his gorgeous shaft, which Joe would kill to suck off. Oh, if only he were allowed. Someday, he promised himself, someday.

"Do I get any say in this?" the cutie asked, grinning.

"No," Joe and Gary replied in unison.

"Oh, okay." He laid his head back. "As long as it feels good."

"Gary?" Joe asked, starting to feel kind of anxious.

With his free hand, Gary lifted a bottle of whiskey to his lips and took a long drink. He gasped as he lowered the bottle. "Suck him off," Gary ordered.

Joe smiled before lowering his head. He pictured doing this to his big brother instead of the guy underneath him as he took the thick shaft in his mouth. Joe glanced over several times to see Gary stroking himself harder as Joe worked the cutie up.

Gary and the cute guy came at the same time, which pleased Joe no end. He required a moment to catch his breath. When he had, Joe looked to Gary for his new instructions. Gary smiled. Joe knew what that meant. It meant Gary liked this one, they would be keeping him all weekend. Good. If he put Gary in a good enough mood, his brother should be agreeable to his plans concerning those sick bastards, the Warrens.

* * *

Sam snapped his cell phone closed before letting himself in the house. Dad had picked up on the fourth ring, right before it rolled over to voicemail. He seemed to know exactly who was at the house and asked, ordered really, for Sam to get any information he could and call back later. Apparently Dad considered her harmless but he wasn't about to involve her in the demon hunt.

Great.

Sam unlocked and opened the front door. He heard a woman's voice, deep from being abused by smoke, whether first or second hand, the instant he stepped inside. Then he heard Dean chuckle.

"Sam?" Dean called out.

"Yeah, it's me," Sam replied as he closed and locked the door behind him. There was a path from the door to the kitchen. Wow. Dean cleaned up today. "Did you clean?" he asked as he followed the path.

The woman gave him a surprised look as he approached. "Sam?" she asked. "Not Sam Winchester?" She motioned between them. "You two are John's boys?"

They both nodded and her face split in a broad smile. "Well. I'll be damned. And here I was thinking John was trying to pawn me off on one of his weirdo contacts."

Sam took a seat next to Dean. "And you are?" he asked.

"Ellen Harvelle," Dean answered for her. "Apparently she's known Dad for nearly twenty years."

Sam turned to stare in shock at his brother. "You're kidding."

Dean shook his head. Sam glanced down at the baby curled on Dean's shoulder, sound asleep for a change. "How's she doing?"

"Finally got her to sleep," Dean replied, his free hand going up to stroke her back, probably a subconscious move. "I think the antibiotics are finally starting to work." He jerked his head at their visitor. "Ellen was telling me about her daughter, how she used to have all kinds of ear infections when she was a baby and the stuff they tried to get her to sleep."

"When is yours coming home?" Sam asked, couching his question as neutrally as he could in case Dean did not want Ellen here when Frank arrived.

Dean leaned back to look at the kitchen clock. "In about two hours. Yours?"

Clearly Sam was being given the same courtesy. "About three hours." Sam crooked one questioning eyebrow at his brother. Did Dean want Ellen to meet them or not?

"How long are you planning to stay in town?" Dean asked, shifting his attention back to Ellen.

She shrugged. "Well, I was hoping to talk to John, pass along this information."

"You can tell us," Sam insisted. "We'll see that he gets it."

The fingers of one hand drummed on the table. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I mean, I would've thought at least one of you would have known my name. I don't exactly have proof you are who you say you are."

Sam heard his brother make a strangled noise, like maybe he'd feel better strangling her. "Why don't you stay and have dinner with us?" Dean suggested. "I think you'll see pretty quickly we aren't lying."

Sam choked back the chuckle threatening to escape. Yeah. If she didn't believe Dean, she sure as hell would Frank and Serene. Sam would no longer put anything past those two, especially on the rare occasion when they teamed up. Sam broke out the beers all around, no longer worrying about Dean since he quit breast feeding after a particularly embarrassing incident at a restaurant about a month ago. Another baby started fussing and the next thing they knew, Dean had his jacket on and zipped all the way up, insisting they leave. Sam promised himself if he ever had kids, which he was starting to kind of hope for with Serene, he would be really understanding if anything like that happened. Frank sure had been, but Dean had still insisted on switching Liza to formula. That night.

Ellen shrugged as she gulped her beer. "I don't suppose you have anything stronger?" she asked. "I know how John likes his Jack."

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean. "What do you do again?" Sam asked.

"I run a bar," Ellen replied with a shrug. "Sometimes hunters hang out there, exchange information."

Sam noticed Dean relax. He agreed. If she ran a bar, it would explain how she knew anything about Dad's drinking habits.

"Wait a minute," Sam said slowly. "Were you the one who gave Dad the clown case?"

"The one Dad and Bobby went on last month?" Dean asked.

Ellen gave them a short nod. "I was saving it for someone else, but John said something about needing to... uh..."

"Get out of the house?" Dean asked with a laugh. "Yeah, he was going stir-crazy here, wasn't he, Sam?"

"I'm surprised he stayed as long as he did," Sam replied, relieved Dean was taking the news about Dad actively looking for an excuse to go hunting so well. "Honestly I didn't think he'd last two weeks."

Dean glanced over at him. "That's right. You still owe me ten bucks."

Sam rolled his eyes. He never made that bet, but he'd probably have to pay up just to get Dean to quit talking about it.

"You said you were saving it," Sam said, trying to switch back to the topic at hand. "So you collect our kind of cases?"

"I keep my eyes open," Ellen replied with a shrug.

Liza whimpered against Dean's shoulder again. He leaned back and shifted her down to cradle the infant in his arms. After glancing at the clock, Dean turned to Sam. "It's about time for a bottle. You mind?"

"Nah." Sam hopped up to warm a bottle for his niece. He could feel Ellen's piercing gaze on him the whole time, even when he tested the temperature of the formula. Sam handed it over to his brother along with a kitchen towel.

"Thanks." Dean laid the towel over his shoulder before taking the bottle. He gently rubbed the nipple against Liza's cheek. Her tiny mouth opened and Dean slipped it into her mouth. She sucked experimentally before opening her eyes and getting down to work.

"Wow," Ellen said. "Now those are some blue eyes."

Dean grinned, his eyes sparkling from the compliment. "Yeah, I know. She has Frankie's eyes."

Sam gently ran a hand over the top of her bald head. "And your hairstyle."

"Ha-ha," Dean shot him a glare, but it didn't last long. "When it comes in, I'm going to let it grow as long as yours and call her Sammy."

"Jerk," Sam snapped, his mouth on automatic.

Dean's face shifted into a grin. "Bitch."

"I believe you're brothers," Ellen told them. "Tell me, what was it like growing up with John Winchester for a father?"

"Don't," Dean snapped, head jerking up to glare at her. "I swear, lady, if you get Sam started on that I will kick your ass so far out of this-"

"Dean!" Sam barked.

Dean glared back. "What?" he demanded and Sam heard the undercurrent of anger and frustration.

"She's a guest?" Sam suggested weakly.

Dean's glare hardened. "Does it look like Frankie is here?"

Yeah, the guest argument only worked with Frank around. Damn it.

"She's a friend of Dad's," Sam pointed out triumphantly.

Dean's shoulders dropped, meaning Sam won! Sam turned back to face Ellen, who appeared both amused and confused.

"When I was twelve I learned how to make silver bullets," Sam informed her. "By the time I was sixteen, I could have written a dictionary on supernatural beings and how to kill them."

"He's not exaggerating," Dean put in, moving Liza to his shoulder to burp her. "And if he doesn't already know about it, Sam can find it. Either on the net or in a library."

"If you're the one with a knack for research," Ellen said slowly, her eyes shifting to Dean, "then you must be the one with a knack for being thrown into walls."

Dean chuckled as he lowered Liza to feed her the rest of her bottle. "That's me. I don't suppose he mentioned anything else about me?"

"Well," Ellen said slowly, "there was something about Dean being too honest when he had a concussion." Dean snorted loud and laughed. He nodded at her to continue and Sam wondered what story was behind Dean's laughter. He really wanted to know. "Oh, I know," Ellen said, slapping her hand down on the table. She pointed a finger at Dean. "You're supposed to be the dangerous one."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. He exchanged an brief look with Sam before asking, "The dangerous one? How do you mean?"

Ellen chuckled as she shook her head. "Well, not that I'm buying it for an instant, but word is Dean Winchester is slightly unstable, taking risks most others won't, but perfectly willing to tackle anything his father throws at him. I heard about the poltergeist you and your father took on a few years ago." She gave him a nod. "Impressive."

Dean rolled his head, cracking his neck. "I can still feel where it dropped that piano on me."

"Piano?" Sam demanded. "It dropped a piano on you?"

"Dude, that was over four years ago," Dean insisted. "Relax. You're acting like it was yesterday."

Sam took a deep breath. Right. Dean was right. He forced himself to lean back in the hard wood chair and watch his niece suck her bottle dry.

"That's some appetite," Ellen remarked as Sam hopped up at another nod from Dean to heat a second bottle.

"She gets that from Dean," Sam said as he filled the bottle with pre-mixed formula. Sam dropped it into the bottle warmer.

"What else have you heard?" Dean asked Ellen with Liza on his shoulder, patting her back gently.

Ellen shrugged. "Only that you boys certainly seem to know your business. Tough, smart, capable, everything we would expect from John's sons."

Liza let out a loud belch. Dean chuckled as he lowered her into his arms again. "Sounding more like your pop everyday," he told the baby with a grin.

The light went off, so Sam took out the bottle and shook it up before testing the warmth of the formula on his wrist. With a shrug he handed it over. "I think it's ready."

Dean squirted some on his wrist before nodding in agreement. He brushed Liza's cheek gently with his fingertip twice before her head rolled to the side and her mouth opened. Dean tilted her body a little more upright than usual as she sucked down the fresh bottle. There was no more conversation while Liza sucked the second bottle dry. Dean sat there with a soft smile playing on his lips, one Sam was certain his big brother didn't even know he had, while he watched her. When she finished he lifted her to his shoulder again and patted her back gently until there was another loud belch.

With Liza once again settled against his shoulder with heavy, sleepy eyes, Dean focused his attention on Ellen again. "How'd you meet our dad?"

"Huh?" Ellen tore her eyes from Liza. "That is the sweetest baby," she cooed before answering Dean's question. "He was hunting whatever killed his wife. Problem was, John had no idea what it was, so he was gathering information about everything." She shrugged. "My place is a good place to do that. Maybe even one of the best places to gather information about hunting."

Gee, and she was modest, too.

"Are you sure about dinner?" Sam whispered, his eyes straying to the clock. Frank was due home any time now.

Dean nodded and Sam heard a key turning in the lock on the front door. Well, too late to turn back now.

"I'm home!" Frankie's deep voice belted out.

"Kitchen!" Dean called back.

Frank paused in the kitchen doorway, confusion registering when he spotted Ellen. "We have company?" he asked. "No wonder you picked up."

Dean's eyes rolled as Ellen turned to regard him curiously. Frank entered the room, moving to loom over Dean and Liza.

"How's her highness?" he asked. "What'd the doctor say?"

"Ear infection," Dean replied. "She's on antibiotics and seems to be doing better already." He held up her empty bottle. "Wouldn't eat much earlier but she just sucked down two of these in record time."

Frank gently wrapped his hand over her head, covering the bald skull completely. "Poor baby," he whispered. Then he turned his head to face Dean's profile. "How about you? Any sleep?"

Dean shook his head. "Hopefully she'll sleep a few hours tonight, now that the meds seem to be working." He yawned, as if the thought of sleep was enough to make him more tired.

"She looks sleepy now," Frank said in a stern voice. "I'll put her down and you go to bed."

Dean jerked his chin at Ellen. "We have company," he said, a little stiffly. "This is Ellen. She says she's a friend of Dad's."

"I do say," Ellen replied, just as stiffly. She stood and offered a hand to Frank. "Ellen Harvelle. Nice to meet you."

"Frank Warren," he replied. He looked at her curiously after dropping her hand. "Quite some handshake you have there, Ellen." Frank turned back to Dean. "Is she staying for dinner? Do I need to order something?"

"Yep," Dean replied.

Sam shifted his attention to Ellen before he knew what would happen next. He heard Frank kiss Dean, either on the cheek or forehead or on his temple. Ellen's eyes widened and her lips twitched, but other than that, she gave no sign that she had seen anything odd or 'wrong.' Good. Sam allowed himself to relax a little.

By the time Serene arrived with their dinner, and she was in a mood, Dean had still not managed to extract any concrete information about how Dad and Ellen knew each other and the exact nature of their friendship.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Sam asked, following her into their bedroom. "Bad day?"

She grunted as she balled up her uniform and threw it in the corner. "The worst," Serene snapped. She went on about lousy tips and how rude a bus full of 'trespassers' had been. One guy had followed her around the whole time, trying to cop a feel.

"You should've called me," Sam told her. "I would've set him straight."

Serene kicked at the bed. "That's the point, Sam! I shouldn't have to call you." She kicked it again. "I should be able to handle it. Hell, the rest of the people in there were locals and not one of them tried to help!"

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she dropped to sit on the bed, face buried in her hands. Oh. Serene wasn't really upset about the guy, she was upset because she felt so protective of a town that was not willing to protect her. Shit. Sam sat beside her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Then again, the locals might have been waiting for Serene to really let the 'trespasser' have it, assuming she would want to handle the situation herself. Crap. Really, with Serene, sometimes there was no telling what she expected or wanted to happen.

Sam held her until she pulled herself together. "Who's that woman out there?" she asked, pulling on a pair of loose jeans.

"Claims to be a friend of Dad's," he told her.

One side of her mouth twitched. "Your dad has friends?" Serene pulled a t-shirt on over her head.

Sam chuckled as he reached out to brush away teartrails from her cheek with his thumb. "A few," he admitted. "Doesn't mean they haven't tried to kill him once or twice."

"What about this one?" Serene asked, pushing away from him to head to the bathroom.

Sam waited until after she washed her face before answering. "I don't know. He's never mentioned her and there's no listing for her in his journal." Sam sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "It's like he was trying to keep her a secret."

Serene gave him a funny look. "You read your father's diary?"

"Not his diary, his journal," Sam told her. "The one he keeps about... hunting."

Serene shivered. "Ew. Why would anyone keep a journal about hunting rabid bears and lions?"

Sam chewed on his lower lip as he stared at her. He believed he loved Serene, he really did. But could he trust her? Dean had a test for trust, one Sam should have employed long before now. Damn it. He reached under the bed, feeling around until his hand hit the worn leather journal. Sam pulled it out and patted the bed for Serene to sit down.

"We don't hunt bears and lions," he told her softly. "And I'd really appreciate it if you hear me out before telling me that we're crazy."

Serene's eyes were wide and round and more than a little scared when she nodded at him. In a slow, firm voice, Sam tried to explain the family business.

* * *

Serene sat staring at her beloved boyfriend for a long time after he quit talking and showing her those horrible pictures in the so-called journal. She had no idea what to say, or even if she could say anything. For one of the few times in her life, Serene was speechless.

Sam stood, guilt and remorse twisting his features. "I know I should have told you before now, but..." He swallowed hard and took a deep breath before continuing. "But I didn't want to screw up what we have." He held up one hand. "You probably want to think about it. That's fine. I'll, uh, be out here. If you need anything. And I plan to sleep on the couch tonight, unless you say otherwise."

Too stunned to move, Serene watched him walk out of their room. His room. She looked around. Why was she still here? She wasn't sick, hadn't been for months. She should have moved back into her apartment, where all of her stuff still was. Her bed was much better than this one and her sheets were softer. But Sam wasn't there.

Sam was insane. Hunting ghosts for living? Who gets paid for that? That's not a career choice!

She stood on quaking legs. Serene straightened her spine and smoothed out her shirt with both hands. With a deep breath, to fortify her resolve, she marched into the house.

"Frank," she snapped as she blew through kitchen with the others eating at the table, "lawn chairs. Now."

Serene did not make eye contact or stop until she was outside. She sank into one of the rickety old chairs to wait, hoping she would not be disappointed. A few moments later the back door opened and footsteps approached her. A beer bottle dangled in front of her face.

"Let me guess," Frank said, sinking down into the other chair. "Sam finally told you what they really do."

Serene's eyes jumped to his face. She nodded.

Frank returned the nod before taking a long swig of his beer. "Wow," he murmured. "Speechless." Frank stared at her. "Now I suppose you want me to tell you that Sam is crazy? That they really do hunt wildlife and not the dead, or undead, or whatever?"

Serene held her beer bottle in both hands, eyes pleading with Frank to make this better, to return her to where she'd been when she walked in from a lousy day at work.

"I know you've noticed all the salt lines at all the doors and on all the windowsills," Frank said. "What do you think they're for?"

Serene wet her dry lips. "Roaches?" she whispered hopefully.

Both of Frank's eyebrows shot up. His head shook from side to side as he drank more beer. "You didn't think that," he admonished. Frank shrugged. "Look," he said in a soft voice as his gaze met hers, "it wasn't easy for me, either. Honest. But I've been living with it for almost five years now."

Serene's brow furrowed as she stared at Frank in disbelief.

Frank offered her a small smile. "Dean and Sam have a lot of differences. For one, Dean is all for sabotaging a relationship right away, before it can get too serious. Sam waits until it is too serious."

"You think it's real?" Serene asked in a whisper. "Really?"

Frank nodded, then downed the rest of his beer. "I asked for proof," he informed her. "Dean sent me a list of people I could call. People whose lives they had saved from vengeful spirits, poltergeists, stuff that gives me nightmares." He grinned at her. "Why do you think I taught myself to dream about deserted tropical islands and gorgeous tanned gladiators?"

Serene shook her head, dropping her gaze. "How?" she whispered when she could raise her head again. "How can you live with this?"

Frank shrugged as he stared back unflinching. "I don't have a choice. Not if I want to be with Dean." He pointed his beer bottle at her. "Now you need to make a choice. How much do you want to be with Sam? Because..." He leaned forward, setting the bottle on the ground. "I don't know of any other guy who takes all your crap and just keeps on smiling, like Sam does."

Serene opened her mouth to protest, but the stern look on Frank's face stopped her.

"We've known each other for a long time, Serene. Most of our lives. You dish out plenty of crap and you know it," he told her. Then he chuckled. "Hell, Dean lets me put up frilly curtains and buy him mugs with hearts all over it. If that's not love, I don't know what is." Frank went serious again. "Sam wouldn't have told you unless he's in it for the long haul, Serene. You should take this as seriously as a marriage proposal, because that'll be next."

He stood up. "I'm empty and I'd like to make Dean go to bed now, if he'll give up Liza. I know he didn't sleep at all last night." Frank stared down at her. "Are you all right? Want to stay out here by yourself for a while?" His kind smile appeared. "I know you're wondering if they're crazy and the answer is yes. All four of them, if you include Bobby."

Serene gasped. Bobby was in on this conspiracy of lunacy?

"Yeah, Bobby too." Serene drew comfort from the way Frank grasped her shoulder. "Just because they're crazy, doesn't mean it's not true. You'd have to be crazy to go looking for those things."

Serene stared at the back door for a long time after Frank went back inside. She heard the sharp snap of a door slamming and the sound of a car driving away. When she lifted her beer to her mouth for her first sip, it was warm. How long had she been sitting here, a prisoner of her raging thoughts and insecurities?

Crap.

She poured out the rest of her warm beer, listening to it splatter against the ground. Her chest of drawers would fit against the far wall of their room. They would have to switch the beds out. Serene wondered if Frank would let her set up her bookcase in the main room.

Serene took her empty bottle inside. The kitchen was empty and most of the lights were off. The light over the sink had been left on, so she could see to throw away her bottle. Serene walked slowly into the den, noticing the dark lump on the couch. She cleared her throat.

"Serene?" he whispered. "Are you all right?"

"No," she snapped. "Get your ass to bed, Winchester. I won't have you hurting your back or neck sleeping on the damn couch."

Sam stood, his figure dark and huge in the low light. He seemed to tower over her. "Are you sure?"

She squinted in the low light until she could see his boyish face creased with worry and concern. Serene found herself smiling up at him. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Sam wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close. "Really?" he breathed into her ear.

Serene nodded, shook her head, then nodded again. "If... If Frank can do this, so can I." She swallowed hard. "But, uh, it may take me a while to, you know, get used to this..." She waved one hand around. "Stuff."

"Okay, okay," Sam told her, nodding his head rapidly. "That's fair. More than fair."

"And proof," she insisted. "Dean gave Frank proof. I want proof too."

"Uh, okay," Sam said slowly. "I'll talk to Dean about it. But are you sure you don't want me to stay out here? Until you're more comfortable?"

"Hell no," Serene hissed, one hand grasping his shirt as she pulled him along into the bedroom. "If those things are real, I want you as close as possible to protect me."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice.


	45. Chapter 45

Okay, this chapter kind of ran away from me, but I really like the first part and I hope you do too!

**Chapter 45**

Dean's eyes flew open. The slightest sound woke him these days. He would be willing to bet even sneaky-ass Sam couldn't slip out on him right now. He could hear nothing from Liza over Frankie's breathing, so Dean slipped out of bed. Licking his palm first, Dean held it close to the baby's nose and mouth. Her soft baby breath felt cool on his palm. Still breathing. Good.

Unable to pinpoint what woke him, Dean decided he must have dreamed it and climbed back into bed. When he shifted on the mattress, Frankie threw an arm over him.

"My beautiful warrior," he murmured.

Dean rolled his eyes in the dark room. It was the gladiator dream again. Frankie lifted up to lean over him. Had Dean waken him?

"Sssshhh," Frankie hushed him, one hand brushing his cheek. "Not to worry. Outside of these walls, your strong arms protect me from my enemies. Inside these walls, my heart shall shield yours."

Dean stared up into Frankie's shocking blue eyes, which were open and barely visible in the low light. He was looking down but his eyes had this distant, unfocused quality. Son-of-a-bitch, he was still asleep!

"If you were to entrust your heart to me," Frankie whispered, "I swear I'll never drop it, never give a cause for it to break or shatter."

Who the hell talked like this? Dean might have to check out some of that crap Frankie liked to read. Was the dialogue really this bad? And why was it so damned hard to tear his eyes away? Why couldn't he look anywhere but directly in Frankie's god-damned blue eyes?

"It might rip or tear," Frankie continued, "but I'll patch it, any way I can. I swear to you, if you give it to me, I'll keep it always." His hand stroked Dean's cheek again. "What says my beautiful warrior?"

Dean was breathing hard, staring up into Frankie's unseeing eyes. Holy crap. Frankie didn't just dream about him in skimpy outfits, he dreamed about them. Together. And in his dreams Frankie worked through all the hard parts, the rough patches they had. Now Frankie had this hard, determined look.

"But Frankie," Dean protested, unsure if he would be heard, "you already have my heart."

Frankie's face broke with a soft smile. "And I'll never give you reason to regret it."

Then he leaned down to kiss Dean so sweetly, so tenderly, it reminded Dean of why he kept coming back here all these years. Then Frankie moved over him, shoving his clothes out of the way while Dean laid there, stunned. Dean did not snap out of his stunned stupor until Frankie pressed inside. What followed could not be described as sex. Sex was too cold, clinical and detached. Fucking was too crude. What Frankie did was like good music. While the bass thrummed, a strong refrain sounded out, again and again, each note full of promise and passion. When they finished, Dean had expected Frankie to roll away, to cool off. Instead he found himself gathered in strong arms holding him tight.

"You won't regret it," he whispered against Dean's neck. "I swear it."

Dean relaxed in Frankie's embrace. Now, more than when Frankie put that ring on his finger or when they went to the courthouse, now Dean really felt married.

* * *

Frank's arm hurt. It ached like a son-of-a-bitch. When he tried to move it, he couldn't. Frank opened his eyes to see what was wrong and found Dean pressed back against him, with his arm trapped under Dean's body. He couldn't remember curling up together last night. Dean Winchester did not snuggle. Period. Curling up, spooning, those were borderline acceptable terms. For a guy capable of bearing children, he had some real hang-ups about 'girly' terms.

"Babe," Frank said, attempting to dislodge his arm. "Hey, I need my arm back, before we have to bury it."

"Sorry," Dean mumbled, lifting up. "Check on Liza. Gimme five more minutes."

"Sure, Babe," Frank promised, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. At least he was allowed to show affection whenever he wanted with Dean. Honestly, that had been more than Frank had hoped for.

When Frank rolled out of bed, rubbing his dead arm to restore bloodflow, he noticed he was naked. Now how the hell did that happen? Frank lifted up the bedsheet to see Dean was naked too. What the?

Frank padded over to the crib against the far wall. He pulled back the fabric shower curtain they put up around the crib, for privacy. Her highness was sleeping soundly, on her stomach. Frank stared for a moment. He was certain he put her down on her back, the way the doctor told them to. Clamping one hand over his mouth to muffle the rising squeal, Frank rushed back to the bed barely containing his excitement.

"Dean!" he hissed, grabbing and shaking Dean's shoulder. "Dean!"

Dean rolled over and blinked sleep-bleary eyes at Frank. "What? What's wrong?"

Frank bounced on the bed on his knees. "She rolled over!"

"Huh?" Dean sat up and rubbed one eye with his fist. "Come again?"

"Liza rolled over!" Frank said again, careful to keep his voice down despite how excited he felt.

"Are you sure?" Dean swung out of bed. He glanced down with a frown before grabbing some underwear off the floor. As he walked over to the crib, his underwear fell down to his knees. Dean scowled as he took them off.

"Guess these are yours," he said, tossing them at Frank.

"Uh, I was wondering about that," Frank replied, pulling them on. "Why are we naked?"

"You were dreaming," Dean said as he searched the floor again. "Oh, here they are." He pulled on his underwear before approaching the crib.

"Dreaming?" Frank demanded. He turned to stare at the bed. Oh no, oh no, oh, no!

"You clever girl you," Dean said in a soft voice. "You did turn over, didn't you? Guess it's time to break out the video camera huh? Make Pop take some video you can actually watch for a change?"

"Dean," Frank pointed at their bed. "Are telling me that we... While I was asleep?"

Dean turned around from the crib, broad grin filling his face. "Yeah, that's what I'm saying. You were having a hell of a dream, Frankie." Then Dean was all over him, holding him close and kissing him in this sweet way which had Frank ready to cave to any demand.

"Thanks, Baby," Dean said as he took a step back. Both of his rough hands, callused from years of manual labor, like digging graves, cradled Frank's face as gently as they held Liza. "You know I don't deserve you."

Frank stared back, barely regaining his presence of mind to grab Dean's wrist before he could pull away.

"Yes you do," he insisted quickly, pressing his cheek into Dean's palm. He wrapped his arm around Dean's waist to pull him back in close, then used one hand to grab Dean by the back of the neck. But Dean grinned broadly at him.

"You need to go to work, Baby," Dean insisted, both hands planted on Frank's chest. "And even though you don't remember it, trust me when I say you had a good time last night. Now go shower while I get a bottle ready."

Frank stumbled into the bathroom to turn on the hot water and let it warm up. Then again, maybe he needed a cold shower. The problem wasn't so much that he did not remember dreaming last night, the problem was he remembered exactly what he dreamed. He had extracted a promise of love from his gladiator by promising to protect his heart. Frank moved under the hot water, hoping it would wash away the memory of his dream. Really, how could it be any more embarrassing?

He thought about his warrior's response, 'Frankie, you already have my heart.' In his dreams, his warrior never called him 'Frankie.' Was that really Dean answering him? Great. Either he dreamed the whole thing or Dean was interacting, either telling him the truth or just playing along. It wasn't like Dean would ever own up to it so he would never know for sure. Surely Dean wouldn't just play along without meaning it. Would he? Oh, this could give him a headache.

When Frank returned to his bedroom, he found his work clothes laid out on his bed and the room empty. Dean laid out his clothes? This was starting out to be a strange day. As he shoved his shirt into his slacks, Frank opened his bedroom door. Dean sat in the easy chair, holding Liza and feeding her a bottle. Man, that made for a nice picture.

"Go for the camera and I'll break your button-pushing finger," Dean threatened without looking up.

Frank relaxed against the door frame. "How about I take the day off?" he offered.

Now Dean looked up at him with a small smile. "Nah. Go. You're out of vacation time anyway. Besides," his smile broadened, "we're out of bacon."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Just tell me I smell coffee."

"Knock yourself out," Dean said with a jerk of his head. "You know, this is harder than breastfeeding."

Frank paused to look down in shock. "Come again?"

"I have to use two hands now," Dean explained. "The other way I had a free hand to drink my coffee."

Frank snorted as he slipped a hand down the back of Dean's head. "Like her highness needs caffeine," he said before pressing a kiss to Dean's temple. "I'm taking Liza duty this evening," Frank announced as he headed for his morning coffee. "And you're taking a nap."

"Depends on your blood pressure," Dean informed him when he returned to his spouse's side.

Frank dropped to his knees beside them. He pressed a kiss to the top of Liza's head. "Holding such a sweet baby will lower it," he murmured as he listened to her slurping away. Then he lifted his head to gaze into Dean's tired face. "You're exhausted. I want you to sleep."

"He'll sleep," Sam's voice interrupted. "Because I'm taking Liza duty for the rest of the morning."

"Sam," Dean protested, "you can't."

"I can and I am," Sam insisted. "Dean, I know she's going to miss you terribly, but you're going to bed."

Dean groaned. "After I give her her medication," he said with a sigh. "But only because I'm still a little tired."

Frank gave his brother-in-law a silent look of thanks before planting another kiss to Dean's cheek. "Call me if you need anything," he said as he headed out the door. Frank paused in the doorway. "Is that Ellen woman coming back today?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "We still need to find out the information she has for Dad. When I talked to him last night, he made a couple of suggestions on how we can convince her to give us the information."

"Well, good luck. Warn me if we're having company for dinner again," Frank requested.

"Sure, Frankie," Dean called back. It was so damn hard to close the door on that killer smile and the sight of him holding Liza. Shit. Sometimes Frank hated being gainfully employed.

* * *

Ellen marched up to the front door of the house Winchester sent her to. He might have warned her it was his family home. Next time she saw that sanctimonious, self-righteous son-of-a-bitch, she'd let Jo have a little target practice with a live target. Moving, if he was lucky.

She hesitated before choosing to knock over the doorbell. People with infants usually did not appreciate doorbells being rung. Ellen knocked lightly, again not wanting to wake the baby. She could not imagine why they had asked her to return, unless they were willing to offer some concrete proof they were Winchesters. Her information was for John and only John.

The tall one with the scraggly hair, Sam, opened the door. Today he was the one holding the baby. Where was this child's mother? How could anyone abandon such a sweet baby? Well, perhaps the mother was young, a teenager, and couldn't deal with the responsibility so she abandoned the baby to her birth father. Again, Dean Winchester's reputation preceded him. She wished his bisexuality had been part of his rep too, then it might not have taken her off guard. But hadn't he mentioned last night the baby had 'Frankie's' eyes? If Frankie was indeed the man Frank, then perhaps Frank was the one who had an affair and now Dean was stuck with raising his child.

A headache threatened right behind her temples and at the base of her skull. It was a tension headache. She should have seen it coming considering she was dealing with Winchesters.

"Come on in," Sam said in a soft voice. The baby was more awake and alert than last night, so maybe she felt better.

Ellen walked in, rather shocked to see most of the floor clear of baby toys. "Who picked up today?"

Sam grinned. "I did. I'm afraid I don't play with her as much as Dean does."

She shrugged as she walked over to the couch. "Do you mind?" Ellen asked. "Those kitchen chairs are mighty uncomfortable."

"Go ahead," Sam replied with a nod. "Dean's exhausted, so he's sleeping. If he wakes up in time, are you up for lunch?"

"Maybe," Ellen replied noncommittally. "Honestly, I'm not sure why exactly I'm here."

"Because I can prove to you we are who we say we are," Sam told her.

"Yeah?" Ellen challenged. "How?"

Sam held up a brown leather journal with one hand. He slapped it on the couch arm beside her. "This is Dad's journal. You're not taking it, but he said you could look through it."

"When?" Ellen demanded. "When did he tell you that?"

"Last night," Sam replied. "When he called to check on his granddaughter and find out why you showed up. Speaking of which, why are you here? What information do you have for Dad?"

"Not so fast," Ellen challenged. "Let me look through this journal first."

Sam nodded for her to go ahead. When she flipped open the first few pages and read how John started hunting, it stole her breath. This was obviously the hunting journal of John Winchester. She would have to get the information from the trunk of her car to leave here. Ellen had hoped to meet John face to face, but she supposed it wasn't meant to be.

"I guess you are who you say you are," Ellen admitted slowly. "I'd rather speak with John, obviously. What is he up to, anyway?"

Sam gave her a hard look. "I'm guessing you already know the answer to that."

Ellen sighed and shrugged. "Demon hunting, right? I've been trying to contact another hunter I've heard about, Bobby Singer. Don't suppose you've heard of him either?"

To her great surprise, Sam nodded. "Yeah. Bobby's an old friend."

"Oh. Well, that's good. Singer can do more with this information than I could anyway." Ellen stood up. "I'll go get it. It's in the car."

"Leave the front door unlocked," Sam told her. "Dean'll kill me if I take Liza outside without him before she shakes this ear infection."

"Uh, right." Ellen left the tall young man tending to the infant for her car. She had the file in a lockbox inside her trunk. There were several sensitive hunting files in here and Ellen needed to check to be certain she had the correct one. Yes, this was it. Tucking it under one arm, she headed back for the house.

"Excuse me!" a woman's voice called out. "Excuse me, miss!"

Ellen turned around slowly. An elderly woman in a new pink housecoat and fuzzy pink slippers shuffled across the lawn towards her. Her head was wrapped in a pink patterned scarf.

"Who? Me?" Ellen asked, glancing around.

"Yes, you!" the woman said, waving a hand at her. "Just a moment. I don't move as fast since the stroke."

Ellen remained where she was. The woman breathed a sigh of relief when she reached Ellen.

"I was afraid I'd miss you again," she said with a grin. "Now. Who are you? A friend of Frank's, Dean's or Sam's?"

Ellen stared at the strange woman for a moment before it occurred to her that she could confirm the boys' claim. "John's."

The woman's face relaxed into a broad smile. "Oh, that John Winchester. Quite the looker, isn't he?" She sighed dreamily.

Ellen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Does he come here often?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," the nosy neighbor replied. "Whenever he can. Why, he stayed two whole months when the baby was born! Well..." She tapped a finger on her cheek. "I think the first month was before, to make sure he didn't miss it, and the second month was to help out after they brought the baby home."

"Miss Shelly!" A man's voice called out. Ellen turned to see Dean coming out of the house. "What are you doing out here?"

"Talking to your father's friend, dear," she said in loud voice, which accentuated her slightly slurred speech.

Dean smiled broadly as he approached. "Come on, Miss Shelly. Do you want to come in and visit, or go home? You're not standing outside all day."

Miss Shelly beamed at Dean. "Oh, you are such a dear, Dean. No, you can just take me back home. Steve does worry so when I don't answer the phone. You know, he is my favorite grandson."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said gently as he turned her around. "Let's go." Over his shoulder, Dean told Ellen, "Go on in the house. This'll take a few minutes."

"Yes, go on, dear," Miss Shelly shouted, waving one arm in the air. Ellen shrugged as she turned to walk away, when she heard another snippet from Miss Shelly. "Now don't you worry about your figure. You just give yourself some more time, you hear me?"

Ellen glanced back at the neighbor. Crazy old bat. She shook her head and went inside the house.

* * *

She wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but while spending the afternoon playing some challenging poker, the Winchester boys managed to talk her into visiting one of the local bars. Apparently it was bar-b-que day there, and both of their 'significant others' would be meeting them after work. Sam had teased Dean about this being a 'hot date' and what he would wear.

When Dean came out of the bedroom in a black t-shirt and a rather large overshirt, blue and green plaid, Sam had laughed loudly. Dean's cheeks had pinked with embarrassment. It was interesting to see an embarrassed Winchester. The large overshirt was more like a jacket, but Ellen had to admit, it did bring out the green in Dean's eyes. He looked good in it. A little soft around the middle, but a nice looking young man. When Dean rolled up the sleeves of the overshirt up to his elbows, Ellen noticed his arms were pretty well defined. Now how could a guy work out only his arms and not his abdominals? That was pretty sloppy. John Winchester wasn't so sloppy.

Sam drove John's old Impala, Ellen had wondered what happened to it, with Dean and the baby in the back seat and her in the front passenger seat. Dean was oddly possessive of his partner's child. She hoped he had some kind of legal claim in case he and Frank ever broke up, because otherwise it would be completely up to Frank if he got any kind of visitations. And if the mother ever showed? Well, in most states, they would both be screwed.

They drove to a place called, uniquely enough, The Bar. Really. The people in this town must have a deficit of imagination. It was all Ellen could do not to insist on leaving immediately.

"You're really taking a baby into a bar?" she demanded, trying to find a way out of this.

"Sure," Dean said from inside the car as he fiddled with the infant car seat. "Why not? Hey, Sam! This stupid carrier thing is supposed to detach, right?"

Sam ducked into the back seat from the other side.

"Smoke," Ellen suggested. "You shouldn't have babies around smoke."

Dean shot her a look from the back seat. "Didn't you say you've raised your daughter in a bar?"

Ellen bristled a little at being called a hypocrite. "That was before we knew how dangerous second hand smoke is."

"The Bar is smoke-free," Sam said from inside the car. "Wait, Dean. I think I found it. Yeah. There you go."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he removed the carrier from its base in the car. "Finally," he muttered. "Whoever thought that shit up ought to be exorcised." Dean slammed the back door shut, causing the baby to whimper.

"Ah, crap," he swore softly, swinging the carrier gently to settle the infant down.

Sam locked up the car before waiting off to the side. "Ready?" he asked when the baby appeared calmer.

"Yeah, I think so," Dean replied. "But I'm not sitting by the damn door again. It's drafty."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam retorted. "You know why they want to put you there."

Dean gave his brother a nasty face. "Liza isn't some damned sideshow."

Sam sighed, shaking his head as he reached for the door. "Nobody thinks of her that way, Dean. You know that."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head as he went in. Ellen had to admit, a smoke-free bar was kind of nice. Weird, but nice. There was a smoker's door set in the side wall, and she had to assume a smoking circle of some sort was out there. Inside, without a constant haze, she could see through the bar clearly. The usual kind of stuff was here, a couple of pool tables in the back, along with dart boards and even a few tables for chess and checkers. Ellen paused by one, wondering if her patrons liked checkers. She might buy a few checkers games cheap. If anyone actually played, she could look into one of these tables.

The man behind the bar, with long gray hair and weak eyes, rushed over to greet them. "Dean! Sam!" he gushed. "Are we being honored with another visit from little Liza?" he asked, peering down into the carrier. "Why, that baby just gets prettier every time I see her. Which table do you boys want?"

"Back corner," Dean insisted, pointing.

A large table stood in the corner farthest from the front door and away from the dart boards. It was within spitting distance of the smoker's exit, but that Dean did not seem to mind. Or the fact someone was already sitting there.

"Who is that?" Dean demanded as he approached.

"Burt," the burly man said.

Dean grinned. "Hey, Burt. Good to see you again. You mind? We have more people meeting us here."

Burt narrowed his eyes at Dean. "People like Frank?" he demanded in a gruff voice.

"Better believe it," Dean replied, still grinning.

"Well. All right then." Burt picked up his beer. As he passed Dean, he leaned over to say, "Tell Frank I said hey."

"I will," Dean promised before setting Liza's carrier on the table. He and his brother sat with their backs to the wall, with a good view of the front door, Ellen noticed. They appeared perfectly casual about it, but she had a feeling it wasn't casual. They were John's boys.

"What was that all about?" Ellen asked. "He wasn't going to leave unless Frank was coming?"

Dean shrugged. "It's an odd town," was the only explanation he would give.

Dean and Sam kept trying to pry additional information out of her, like exactly how their father came to meet her, and so on. Well, if John hadn't told them all the nasty details, Ellen certainly did not want to. She was saved from another round of questions by Sam's girlfriend arriving. A few people called out to her when she walked in, more than one harassing her about her waitress uniform being in the wrong establishment.

Serene slipped into the chair next to Sam with a groan. "I am so happy you called. I had to get out of there today."

"Another bus?" Sam asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Serene nodded. "This one was a gambling bus. You wouldn't believe how cheap those people can be! I swear, we're going to be missing salt shakers and toilet paper tomorrow."

Ellen chuckled. "I hear ya. I had a customer try to walk out of my place with a table and a couple of chairs one time."

Serene stared back. "What did you do?"

Ellen grinned. "I know how to use a shotgun."

Serene nodded seriously. "That ought to do it. They'd never let me keep one at work, though. It'd be too tempting."

"Frank!" a shout went up through the bar. The tall, broad man from last night walked in. Every hand waved him to their table in the back and Frank waved his thanks carelessly behind him.

"Does everyone in this town know him?" Ellen asked before she could stop herself.

"Pretty much," Dean replied, a beaming smile on his face.

"Hey, Babe," Frank said, a little breathless as he spun the chair next to Dean around and straddled it. He gave Dean a quick peck on the cheek before turning all of his attention to the baby. "And how's my girl?"

"Better," Dean replied as Frank removed the infant from the carrier. He cradled her carefully in his arms. "Her appetite is back."

Frank nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the bundle in his arms. "Good, good." His face split in the biggest grin Ellen had ever seen. "Dean! She's smiling at me!" he hissed.

Dean chuckled as he leaned over. "Well, sure. She loves her Pop."

Frank was gently bouncing the baby to make her smile when a slender waitress approached their table. "Lunch specials all the way around?" she asked. "Drinks? The usual?" Her pen came out from behind her ear when she spotted Ellen. "How about you? Drink?"

"Uh, yeah. Beer. And a water," Ellen ordered.

"Gotcha," she said with a snap of her gum before turning on her heel.

"How does that woman keep her job?" Ellen wondered aloud.

"Her uncle owns the bar," Dean told her.

"And she can remember the last drink anyone in town ordered," said Serene. "If you've been here once, she'll ask if you want your usual."

Ellen nodded. "In that case, if her uncle ever gives her the boot, call me."

She noticed Dean nudge Sam during the delivery of their bar-b-que. Sam glanced across the room, where Dean indicated. Ellen checked it out herself. A cute brunette, most likely jail bait for either of them, was bent over one of the pool tables wearing shorts that would make Daisy Duke blush.

"You know," Sam mused, digging into his supper, "I don't know why we don't come here more often."

"Mainly because Sheri Jones plays pool here," Serene said calmly, "and you wind up staring at her ass the whole time."

Sam's eyes cut to the side. "No I don't," he protested.

Serene snorted loudly, glancing pointedly at the pool tables.

While Ellen watched the minor drama play out in front of her, she saw both Frank's and Dean's eyes follow something behind her. When Ellen turned, she could see why. Tall, muscular, short wavy black hair and smoldering dark eyes all on one hunk of a young man.

"Mmm!" Ellen tried not to stare. "I'm starting to like this town."

Dean's chuckle drew her attention back to the table.

"So let me guess," Ellen said, turning to Serene. "This is your hometown," she turned to Frank, "and yours." She waved a finger between the brothers. "You two are new."

"Oh, that reminds me, Burt said hey," Dean told Frank.

"Burt who?" Frank asked. "There are a few Burts around, Dean."

"I don't know!" Dean hissed. "Big Burt. He's sitting over there." He motioned to the bar.

Frank waved at the guy who gave up his table for them. Burt took that as a sign to come over.

"He wants to see the baby," Frank murmured.

Dean forced a grin. "Fine," he said through clenched teeth, "but he's not holding her."

Now that boy acted more like a first-time mother than a second father. Ellen was starting to suspect John never brought his boys around because they were a little odd, not because he was an overprotective bastard. Which he was, of course.

Burt was all smiles when he walked up. "Did ya get the baby quilt my wife made?" he asked. "It was the yellow and blue one. Reversible?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Frank replied, his head bobbing. "It's in the baby's crib right now. Isn't it Dean?"

Dean stared blankly at Burt. "Quilt?" he mumbled. "Wait, the one with the puppies? Oh, I love the one with puppies! That was you?"

"My wife," Burt repeated. "But she'll be real pleased to hear how much you like it. Uh, do you think I can?" He held up his cell phone. Ellen watched curiously as Dean and Frank posed with the baby for a picture.

"Hey!" the bartender called out from behind Burt. "I don't have one of those for the bar yet!"

Dean groaned, rolling his head to the side. "Fine," he sighed. "We'll go take some pictures."

Frank beamed at the bartender and winked. "You'll get one, Harry. I promise!"

What? Were the Winchesters town celebrities or something? Good grief. She was leaving tonight, Ellen didn't care how long of a drive she had. Her information had been delivered and she hoped it would help John out in his crazy mission, maybe even without getting him killed.


	46. Chapter 46

Well, I'm really glad you all enjoyed the last few chapters. Again, there is plot coming. And action!! Really! There's a character I kind of wanted to bring into play here. ta-da!!

**Chapter 46**

Jim Murphy hung up his phone after a very interesting conversation with Sam Winchester. He had not heard from Sam in well over a year, which was very unusual. At worst, Sam typically called at least once every three months, usually right after exams. In his concern, Jim had contacted Sam's advisor at Stanford and had been horrified to learn Sam had quit school as the result of his girlfriend's death. No one had seen Sam since, though it had been rumored Sam was on a road trip with his brother. Jim had forced himself not to worry too much, knowing Dean would look after his little brother. If they needed him, they would call.

Today had been the first time Sam called. Was it to tell him about his girlfriend's death? No. Was it to explain why he had quit school? No. Was it to relate his adventures on the road with Dean? No. Perhaps an insight, or rant, about the way John Winchester had fallen off the face of the Earth? No. Sam wanted to talk about his new girlfriend and how she had taken the news about the family business, as Dean liked to call it.

Well, if Sam was serious enough about this girl to tell her about hunting, he was mighty close to a marriage proposal, Jim decided. And if Sam was close to a marriage proposal, perhaps Jim needed to meet the girl in question. It had taken a few platitudes and some guilt, but Jim had managed to wring an address out of Sam without mentioning his plan to visit. He had no idea what would keep those two boys in one place long enough for Sam to become serious about a girl, but odds were if Sam was this serious then Dean would be keeping them close by.

It took a few days, but Jim managed to make arrangements for someone to cover for him for the next couple of weeks. He was long overdue for a vacation.

* * *

It was a relatively short flight, but the closest airport was some distance from this town Pearland. Jim chose to rent a car rather than take a cab. It seemed safer, especially since he had no idea if the boys were even there at the moment, much less if they would have a room for him to stay in on short notice. A road map came with the car as well as one of those new-fangled GPS things. Fortunately, a gentleman with the car rental agency was able to help him program it with the address Sam had given him.

Jim followed the directions given by his GPS until he found himself in a family type neighborhood barely within the city limits of Pearland. Jim drove right up to a small house with a clean and trimmed front yard. A blanket of fall flowers flanking the front walk stood as a testimony to the fair weather in this region. A young man was stretched out on a blanket in the front yard, lying on his side. His attention seemed to be focused on a small child admiring the grass. The young man turned over to sit up when Jim stopped the car, which was when he recognized this particular young man.

Dean Winchester.

Now what in the world was Dean Winchester doing watching a baby? Jim opened his door to step out of the car and peer over the top.

"Dean?" he called out cautiously, in case his old eyes were deceiving him.

"Jim?" the old familiar voice of a young man who had a special place in Jim's heart called back. Dean stood with a broad smile, picking up the baby before heading over. "What in the world are you doing here? Did Dad or Bobby call you?"

"No," Jim replied, feeling rather left out that two of his old and dear friends had not called him about Dean and Sam's whereabouts. "Sam did."

Dean gave him a questioning look. "Sam didn't say anything about you coming out."

Jim shook his head, closing his car door. "I never asked to come. Since Sam seems enamored by a young woman, I decided I needed to meet her myself, especially since it sounded like he would be staying in one place for a little while."

"Come on in," Dean told him. "I haven't picked up today, so you'll have to excuse the mess."

"I excuse many things in my line of work," Jim replied with a smile. Finally, Dean appeared at least a little guilty. "But it is a beautiful day and I would hate to deprive a child of enjoying it. I wouldn't mind sharing your blanket."

Dean rubbed nervously at the back of his neck with his free hand before returning the baby to the blanket. She immediately returned to her investigation of the grass, lying on her stomach and placing a hand tentatively on the stiff green and laughing hysterically before pulling it away.

Jim lowered himself to the ground, stretching out his aching legs. "Oh, I'm not as young as I used to be." They watched the baby playing with the grass for several minutes. "What's her name?"

"Liza," Dean replied. "How'd you know she was a girl?"

Jim smiled at Dean. "The pink outfit kind of gave it away."

Dean chuckled as he resumed his earlier position, stretched out on his side. "I guess it's a good thing her blue outfit was dirty, huh?"

"If it had been clean," Jim turned to face a young man whom he had never thought would find the home he so desired, "what would her name have been?"

Dean's smile did not drop. "Still Liza."

"Odd name for a boy," Jim observed.

Dean shook his head. "Well, if we hadn't been sure, we would've named her something like Leslie or Avery or Kasey."

Jim studied Dean's relaxed shoulders, the way he wasn't constantly peering around, and how easy his smile graced his face. "You've given this a lot of thought," Jim observed. "How long have you been here, son?"

Dean stretched out on his back, hands behind his head. "It shows, huh?" He glanced over at the baby. "Well, Liza is five and a half months old now. That plus about seven months... About a year."

"Dean?" Jim would convince the boy to tell him what was going on here, on way or another. "What is this child's full name?"

Dean met his gaze. "Liza Samantha Warren."

"Warren?" Jim asked. "Not Winchester? Or is this one of your aliases?"

Dean chuckled as he shook his head. "I can guess what you're thinking, and you're mostly right. She is mine."

Jim nodded seriously with his attention riveted to the baby exploring the great world around her, one blade of grass at a time. "Well, this would explain why you and Sam seem to have disappeared from the hunting world. There has been talk."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "Talk? What kind of talk?" His shoulders tightened at the mention of hunting and his voice took on a serious tone. "What have you heard?"

"Not much," Jim admitted. "There was a rumor I'd rather not repeat going around a few months back."

Dean's eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. "Oh, come on, Jim. Give."

Jim shook his head. "Other than that, there has been merely speculation regarding your conspicuous absence from hunting. Sam disappearing again was no surprise, most assumed he simply went back to school. But you, Dean..." Jim wished he had the ability to read minds, or at least Dean's enigmatic facial expression. "You and John disappearing was very curious. I had assumed you were hunting with your father."

Dean shook his head. "Dad's hunting the demon that killed Mom. And Sam's girlfriend. He says it's too dangerous for us to be with him." He glanced at the small child, still too young to sit up by herself. "And for once, I agree."

There were more questions Jim would have liked to ask, but he was interrupted by the arrival of a Buick. A large man with dark wavy hair stepped out of it. He waved to them.

"I'm going to change. I'll come back out!" he shouted.

Dean waved back without answering. The man went into the house.

"Dean, are you going to introduce me?" Jim asked, shocked Dean could be so rude. John had raised his boys with proper manners.

"I will," Dean replied softly, an odd glint in his eye. "As soon as he comes back out."

The baby, Liza, bored with the grass. She crawled haltingly over to Dean who smiled fondly at her. When she reached Dean, she placed one pudgy hand on his face. Dean pretended to bite at it, to her delighted squeals. She repeated this, over and over again until the large man returned wearing gray sweatpants and a worn t-shirt. He plopped down on the grass facing Dean and behind the baby.

"How's my girl?" he asked in a strong voice. Liza gasped and rolled over on her back to stare up at him. She giggled and clapped her hands, her whole body wriggling. The man tickled her tummy, making her squeal again.

"Frank?" Dean said. "Meet an old friend of the family, Jim Murphy. Jim, this is Frank Warren."

Warren? Wasn't that the baby's surname? Jim shook Frank's large, strong hand firmly. Frank looked him in the eye as they shook, which Jim appreciated. "Friends of Dean and John are always welcome here," he said warmly.

Jim nodded his thanks. "That is very kind of you." He released Frank's hand. "And how long have you known Dean and John?" His answer might explain some of the questions racing through Jim's mind.

Dean relaxed, still on his side with his head propped up on one hand and that enigmatic smile playing across his features. His twinkling eyes held the promise of a really good joke soon to come.

"Well, let's see..." Frank pondered the question while the baby batted at his hand, wanting his attention. "I guess I've known Dean for five years, and John for over four." He gave the baby a huge smile. "And you?"

"Oh, I'd have to say I've known Dean and Sam for well over twenty years," Jim replied. "Even though one of them isn't big on phone calls to let an old man know he's alive."

"Ah, I know Sam calls you," Dean said dismissively. "He still call about every month or so?"

Jim glared at Dean. "Actually, the last call I had from him was the first since you went to see him at Stanford."

The smile faded from Dean's face. "Really?" he asked in a weak voice.

"Really," Jim replied firmly. "Now would you care to fill me in on what you boys have been up to?" He nodded at the baby. "Including the obvious, if you don't mind."

"I can, uh..." Frank seemed to be groping for something which could take him out of the way. "I can watch Liza out here while you two talk. Inside. Or out back."

Dean nodded as he pushed up from the ground. "Okay, Frankie. Thanks." Dean helped Jim stand. "We'll be out back." Dean paused before heading toward the house. "How was work today?"

Frank grinned down at the baby when he answered. "Great. No problem."

Dean frowned at the large man. "I want to take your blood pressure tonight."

Frank shrugged, eyes riveted to Liza. "Okay, Dean." She grabbed one of his fingers and waved it around. "After your talk with Jim."

Dean sighed and shrugged before leading Jim through the house, which was littered with baby toys. They headed straight for the back door. Two well worn and used lawn chairs awaited them on the back porch. Dean waved for Jim to sit in one. "Beer?" he asked.

Jim nodded, hoping the chair wasn't too ancient to hold his weight. He sat gingerly. Despite its appearance, the chair was firm and steady. Dean returned shortly with two beers. He opened one before handing it over.

"I didn't know Sam hadn't been calling," Dean told him. "Sorry about that. After his girlfriend died I asked him about talking to you and he told me I shouldn't worry about it. I thought it meant he already was." He shrugged. "I guess that's Sam for you."

"I guess," Jim said slowly. "Would you care to explain where that child's mother is?"

The same mysterious smile reappeared. "Not really," he said with a chuckle.

"All right. How about why the baby has this Frank person's last name when she's your child?" Jim tried another tact.

The smile broadened. "It goes with the question about her mother."

Jim sighed in defeat. Sometimes Dean possessed more than his share of the Winchester stubbornness. "Then let's talk about Sam's former girlfriend. How did she die?" Jim asked.

All mirth disappeared from Dean's face. "The same way as Mom. It was a demon," he said in a strained voice.

"A demon?" Jim asked, shocked. "Are you sure?"

Dean nodded. "Dad said it was a demon."

"But not which one," Jim guessed, knowing John Winchester well enough. He always held back information, especially from his sons. It was his way of protecting them, but John often failed to see how a lack of information could be more dangerous than too much information. "That is a shame. I might have been able to help."

Dean nodded. "I can call him, if you like."

Jim eyed Dean shrewdly. "I attempt to call John at least once a week. He hasn't answered a call in months."

One side of Dean's mouth twitched up in a slight grin. "Dad calls us every couple of days, to check up on his granddaughter." He drank a swig of beer. "Bobby's with him."

Somehow Jim did not find this information reassuring. "So he agreed to allow the self-proclaimed demon expert to accompany him?"

Dean chuckled. "They were looking for a hunt as an excuse to leave, and I guess that led back to hunting the demon." He took a long swig of beer. "Personally, I'm just glad Sam stayed here."

Jim frowned at Dean, a young man he once thought full of promise before it became clear John dominated his older son's life. "And why is that, Dean?"

Dean's shoulders stiffened. "Because I don't want Sam out chasing demons without me."

"Jim!" Sam's voice shouted from inside the house. The back door burst open and Sam rushed out. "Jim!" he cried, arms open wide.

Jim stood to allow Sam to hug him. Now why hadn't Dean greeted him this way? Jim returned Sam's enthusiastic hug as best he could. Sam released him to stand back.

"Is this why you wrangled an address out of me?" Sam demanded. "I thought you just wanted to have a mailing address or something."

"Or something," Jim admitted with a smile. "It's high time I had a talk with your brother anyway." He clamped a hand on Sam's arm. "And why didn't you mention there was a baby living in the house?"

Sam's smile faltered. "Oh, uh, well..." He gave Dean a searching look. Dean smiled the same mysterious smile and shook his head.

"Oh, great," Sam mumbled, rolling his eyes. He glared at his brother. "You're going to make me do it, aren't you?"

Dean chuckled. "Nobody has to do it," he said with a one-shouldered shrug.

"But it's Pastor Jim, Dean!" Sam protested. "Oh, man!" Sam jerked his head at the house. "Come on, Jim. I'm sure you're confused."

"Confused does not begin to cover it," Jim admitted as he followed Sam inside.

Sam motioned to the kitchen table before striding purposefully through the kitchen. Jim took a seat at the table to wait. Sam returned with a photo album. He set it on the table and spun it around for Jim as he flipped open the front cover.

Inside Jim saw a picture of Dean and the man Frank, who was still out front. Only Frank looked like he had just taken a severe beating, his face deeply bruised. They were both smiling for the camera. Jim turned the page to find more pictures of Dean. As he turned the pages, Jim realized there was a progression to the pictures. Dean gained weight through the next couple of pages. Then there was a photo of Dean standing in profile with a very round belly. A belly which looked suspiciously like...

No. Impossible.

Jim flipped past more pages of pictures with Dean's expanding waistline until he hit some of a hospital room. Dean, still with the round stomach, was in a hospital bed smiling. Smiling. Jim turned the page again. Now Dean held a small baby in his arms. The next picture showed Dean holding the baby with the man Frank leaning over them with a huge, proud smile.

"This isn't possible," Jim muttered, turning another page. He couldn't tell why he kept turning the pages of this fantastical album, showing him an impossible story. It was absurd.

John called regularly to check on his granddaughter. Liza Samantha Warren. Frank Warren.

"It's possible," Sam told him gently. "It's rare, but it's possible."

"What is rare?" Jim demanded, dragging his eyes from a picture of Dean cradling an infant with an expression of such contentment it made Jim doubt his certainty.

"Dean." Sam took a deep breath. "I didn't know either. Well, not until he was already pregnant." Sam held up two fingers. "Two months pregnant, mind you."

Jim stood, leaving the photo album open to a page filled with images of Dean bottle feeding the infant. "I need to go," he said slowly, his mind stuck in neutral. "Please inform Dean I will return later. After."

"After what?" Sam asked, dogging his steps.

"After I speak with God."

* * *

Jim stepped into the small community church. It appeared to be nondenominational, not that Jim cared. The specific words used to worship The Almighty were not as important as the sentiments behind them. Too bad the same couldn't be said of demonic exorcisms.

The chapel was empty when he arrived. Jim slipped into a pew and pulled out the knee rest to pray. With bowed head, he closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. As Jim sought insight and clarity, he felt someone was watching him.

Lifting his head slowly, Jim opened his eyes to regard a man sitting in one of the front pews watching him.

"Can I help you?" Jim asked courteously.

The man smiled as he replied, "I believe that's my line. I'm the pastor here. Lance O'Reilly."

Jim stood to approach the local pastor. "A pleasure. Jim Murphy. I'm a pastor as well, visiting friends."

O'Reilly motioned for Jim to join him in his pew. "Must be some visit, if you need guidance."

Jim sighed heavily. "Yes. Unfortunately." He cleared his throat nervously, wondering if he dared to speak of his problem with a complete stranger. "I'm afraid I was told something which seems impossible, yet it also appears to be the only explanation possible."

O'Reilly nodded. "I can understand that. There's a young man who grew up here, I've known him all his life. His name is Frank." He smiled at Jim. "And I don't feel I'm betraying a confidence in telling you this. You'd know if you knew Frank. He's very forthcoming." He chuckled. "Anyway, Frank has never had an interest in girls, if you know what I mean. This is an unusual town, Jim. May I call you Jim?"

"Please," Jim replied. "Now go on."

"As I was saying, this is an unusual town. Many of our local residents are attracted to the same sex, or either. There is no stigma attached to it here. Our emphasis is family and friends, and loyalty. Again, take Frank. He met a young man some time back, good looking kid, they made a nice couple.

"Well, close to a year ago a rumor started up that his young man was pregnant. Of course, at first people believed Dean, that's his young man, had been out carousing with women and not taking precautions." O'Reilly waved at the large cross on the far wall, above the altar. "God is mysterious. If it is His design for a man to become pregnant, who are we to doubt it? However..." Here O'Reilly sighed heavily. "I do wish they had been married in the eyes of God and not just some commonlaw marriage certificate."

Shocked, Jim stared at O'Reilly. "Commonlaw?" he demanded, a sense of duty and outrage filling him. "Well, we'll see about that!"

Jim left a speechless Pastor O'Reilly sitting alone in his own church. By the time he reached the house Jim had his speech prepared. The front yard was empty now and an early evening chill was in the air. He walked briskly up to the front door and knocked.

"Jim!" Dean's face split in a smile. "I was afraid you weren't coming back."

Jim glared until Dean's smile faded. "How could you?" he demanded, advancing into the house.

Dean backed away, eyes wide. The large man, Frank, rushed to stand beside him.

"And you!" Jim snapped, pointing a finger in Frank's face. "It's as much your fault as Dean's!"

The two men exchanged startled looks. "But..." Dean began to protest.

"I don't want to hear it!" Jim declared loudly, waving away Sam's attempt to intervene. He moved to stand nose to nose with Dean Winchester. "How dare you not get properly married?"

Dean's eyes widened. "Huh?"

"And how could you even contemplate marriage without calling me?" Jim asked, dropping his voice to a normal level. "Really, Dean? Have I meant so little to you?"

"Ah, Jim..." Dean sighed. Then a pair of strong arms enveloped him the way they should have when he first arrived. Jim returned the embrace happily. But if Dean thought this was getting him off the hook, he was seriously mistaken.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47** - _some of you asked to see the wedding, so..._

"I am not doing this," Dean stated as he sat on the edge of their bed.

Frank rolled his eyes. Hadn't they already been through this about ten times? "Dean, you're the one who said it would keep peace in the family. Remember?"

Dean's jaw clenched as he stared unseeing at the wall. His eyes snapped to Frank. "It'll screw up our anniversary."

Frank shook his head. "Man, you're really reaching now, aren't you? Since when have you cared when exactly our anniversary is anyway?"

"Since..." Dean's voice trailed off as pink crept into his cheeks.

Astounded, Frank waited but Dean wasn't offering any more. "Since when?" he asked again.

A deep sigh filled their room. "Since we started celebrating it," Dean mumbled, the pink in his cheeks darkening.

A broad smile filled Frank's face as he sat next to his spouse. He ran a hand up Dean's back and up over his soft, fuzzy hair. "Softy," he teased as Dean leaned into his touch.

"You must be rubbing off on me," Dean retorted, but there was no heat in his words.

"I can," Frank offered seductively as he pressed against Dean's side. "Want me to?"

Dean's head snapped around to look at him, a grin replacing the expression of fear and dread. "Big idiot."

Frank smiled back. "Nut."

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "Frankie, I don't think I can do this. I mean, you know, with people watching and all?" Frank felt a shudder run through Dean's body, and it wasn't the good kind of shudder.

Frank pressed a kiss to Dean's temple as he held his spouse close. "There won't be lots of people there, I promise." He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of his next statement. "I used one of the phone trees to tell people not to come."

He felt some of the tension ease from Dean's shoulders as a nervous chuckle reached his ears. "You mean those damn things can work for you, too?"

"Yep." Frank figured it was about time he owned up about one thing, though. "But, uh, there was a trade-off."

Dean groaned, his head dropping. "Now what?"

"Our family portrait?" Frank said tentatively. "Uh, it's going to run in tomorrow's paper along with our marriage announcement and Liza's birth announcement."

One hand rubbed over Dean's head. "Great," he grumbled. "Just freaking perfect." He lifted his head so Frank could see his deep eyes, which still held secrets Frank knew he was better off not learning. "You do know this was the town Rod Serling was talking about?"

Frank couldn't help his grin. "Yeah, it's a weird town. That's why I like it." He shrugged. "Do you know of any other place where the whole town would just accept you as you are?"

A thin grin appeared on Dean's face. "You mean when I was pregnant? Uh, no." He chuckled as his head shook. "I don't know what I was thinking when I stopped at The Bar to hustle pool that night."

Frank's smile fell away. "Regrets?" he asked softly.

Dean snorted, shoving an elbow into his side. "Only in not calling Jim myself. I had no idea he'd go off the deep end like that."

Relieved, Frank ran his hand up and down Dean's back again. "So are we about ready?"

Grunting, Dean stood up and pulled Frank with him. "Hell no." He checked his watch. "But I guess we better. I'll put Liza in her outfit at the church."

"Why?" Frank asked as he shouldered the packed baby bag.

Dean gave Frank an incredulous look. "So she doesn't throw up all over it."

"Oh. Right." Frank nodded back. "I knew that."

Dean scoffed as he lifted Liza from the crib. "Yeah, right. Where are Sam and Serene?"

"They left about twenty minutes ago," Frank replied. "Sam wanted to be sure everything was ready."

Dean's eyes rolled. "Whatever," he breathed. "So who is supposed to be there?"

Frank stepped back to appreciate how good Dean looked in his black suit. The tie, though, that had to go.

"Hang on," he said stepping closer. "My parents and Lisa and the kids," Frank replied as he untied Dean's necktie. He pulled it off and sent it sailing on to the bed. Frank unbuttoned the top couple of buttons. "That's better," he said.

Dean gave him a quizzical expression.

"You looked like you might strangle," Frank explained. "Don't worry, you still look great."

Dean smiled at him. "Yes, dear."

Frank opened the bedroom door. "Then let's go make Jim happy. Not to mention my parents."

Dean chuckled as they made their way through the house. "Your mother must be beside herself with excitement."

Frank grinned at Dean's back. "You know it. She keeps saying something about this meaning I'm more hetero."

Dean paused outside the door while Frank locked it. He bumped against Frank's side. "Better not be."

Frank laughed, draping an arm over Dean's shoulders while they walked up to the Impala. "I'll do my best. But you know, living in such close quarter with a looker like Serene..."

Dean snorted again. "Yeah, right. There'd be a better chance of Sam turning your head."

"Well," Frank said as Dean situated Liza in the car seat, "I can see why Serene was attracted to him."

"Yeah," Dean replied, "Sam's a good lookin' kid." He emerged from the back seat. "Okay," he said on a sigh, "I guess we're ready."

Frank wasn't sure about Dean driving, but he didn't dare suggest they switch places either. They arrived at the small community church and Frank was relieved to see only a few cars in the parking lot. Frank carried the diaper bag, which held a whole lot more than just diapers, while Dean carried Liza. Liza smiled and giggled, her small hands reaching up for Dean's face, but Dean was too distracted to pay attention to her.

When they entered the church, they received a shock in the form of John Winchester and Bobby Singer greeting them.

"I'll take her," John said, reaching for Liza. "She's getting big." He smiled big for his granddaughter who immediately reached out a pudgy hand for his beard.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked.

"Like I'd miss this," John snorted. "So is she wearing pajamas today or did you bring a fancy dress?"

"There's a dress in here," Frank handed the diaper bag over to Bobby's outstretched hand. "You want to change her?"

"Sure." John beamed at them. "I think Jim wants to get you two situated first anyway. Give us about ten minutes."

The two older men, making complete fools of themselves cooing over sweet Liza, left the sanctuary. Now Frank could see his parents, sister and her two kids, as well as Sam, Serene and Jim Murphy. Oh, there were Steve and Miss Shelly, sitting off to the side. This should be everyone. He hoped.

* * *

Sam stood beside his brother as Jim performed a somewhat traditional marriage ceremony. He knew Jim had not approved of Dean's thumb-ring and insisted on a regular wedding band, which Dean had even agreed to wear. Well, Sam figured Dean would wear it when Jim was around, at any rate.

"And now Frank wishes to make a personal declaration," Jim announced. "Frank?"

Frank turned confidently to face Dean. He held both of Dean's hands in his own. "You know I believe there is a match out there for everyone. That match may not be perfect, or even appear to be advisable, but it exists." He smiled as he squeezed Dean's hands. "I think mine is perfect."

Sam wished he could see Dean's face when Frank said that. Then again, Dean had become much more emotional since the baby. If he was close to tears, Sam had no desire to see that.

"Dean?" Jim asked. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Sam knew the throat clearing was Dean's way of covering his nervousness. "Frankie," he said slowly, his voice barely audible, "you already have my heart."

Frank's face lit up at the words. Sam was prepared for Frank to throw his arms around Dean and embrace him tightly, but Jim put up a hand before Frank could move.

"The ring?" Jim requested. Steve handed over Dean's new wedding band. Frank repeated his vows before slipping the new ring on Dean's ring finger.

Jim turned to Sam. "The ring?" he asked.

The ring? Sam patted down his pockets. Frank was supposed to give it to him before they started, where was it? He checked all of his pockets again. Oh, crap. He was never going to hear the end of this.

"Uh," Frank said. Sam's head snapped around to look at Frank, who was tugging on his ring finger. "I forgot," he whispered to Jim.

Sam relaxed. Thank God, it wasn't his fault. With an embarrassed smile, Frank handed his ring over to Jim.

"Well, it's good to know you keep it on," Jim said. "Even when you're not supposed to." There were a few chuckles. Jim had Dean repeat his vows to Frank before slipping the ring back on Frank's hand.

Jim smiled at them broadly. "...and so I pronounce you...married. You may kiss."

He didn't have to tell them twice. The casual pecks on the check had become so commonplace around the house Sam no longer saw them. But this? He might have guessed at the passion in their relationship from the two or three times they had woken him up during the night, but now Sam saw it first hand. It was a little disconcerting, but at the same time, it was a relief. Dean had assured Sam he was not settling, that Frank was more than he could have hoped for. Now Sam could see the truth of it for himself. Frank wasn't just committed to Dean, he was really in love.

"And now," Jim announced loudly, "where is the baby? It's time for the baptism."

They rearranged for Liza's baptism. Sam stood with the other godparents, Lisa and Serene. Liza waved her arms a bit when the water was poured over her head, but she did not cry out. When Jim handed her back to Dean, the rest of the family crowded around offering congratulations.

"She's getting fussy," Dean said after while, backing away from the rest of the family. "We should head back, let Liza take a nap."

"We'll see you at the house later, Dean!" Dad called out. "Bobby and I need to talk to Jim."

Sam didn't like the sound of that, so he opted to stay behind and find out what was going on.

* * *

Liza was sound asleep in the car seat by the time they reached the house. Dean carefully removed her carrier so she wouldn't wake up. Frank held the front door open for them to go inside. Dean placed her gently on the floor by the couch before plopping down in his easy chair.

"Well, that was a freaking nightmare, wasn't it?" Dean groused in a soft voice.

He was surprised to see Frankie drop to his knees in front of the chair. "It was awesome," Frankie said with a huge grin.

Dean frowned. Frankie seemed just a little too enthusiastic. They only did this to placate Jim and Frank's parents.

"How?" he asked, wondering if he wanted to know the answer.

Frankie leaned over the chair, his face close to Dean's. "I already have your heart?" he asked with the same grin.

Oooohh. Frank did remember dreaming that night.

"Yeah," Dean told him, looking into those stark blue eyes. "You do."

Frank captured him in a passionate kiss which had Dean ready to cave to any demand. One of Frank's hands caressed the side of his face, down his neck to the top of his shirt. He shoved his hand along the buttoned part of Dean's shirt, buttons popping off and sailing through the air.

"I lose more buttons this way," Dean teased.

"I'll take care of it," Frankie promised, his voice a husky whisper.

"You better," Dean replied as Frank's warm hand slid across his bare chest.

Frank's head moved back up to Dean's ear. "There is a tradition," he whispered.

Dean replied with a smile. "Isn't that my line?"

"That's the good part about getting married again, we can take turns," Frankie told him. "And this time, you take the lead."

Dean chuckled as Frank pulled him to his feet. "You make it sound like we're going dancing." He glanced down at sleeping Liza, worried she might wake and he wouldn't know it.

"She's fine," Frankie assured him. "And if she wakes up mad, you know we'll hear it. Come on, before everybody comes home."

Well, yeah, there was that. And there were those sparkling blue eyes and that tempting mouth. Before his brain had a chance to engage, Dean was dragging Frankie behind him to their bedroom. He closed the door, not waiting to reach the bed before wrapping his arms around Frankie's neck. Before Frankie could lean down, assuming he wanted one of those world-stopping kisses, Dean jumped. He landed on Frankie, with both legs wrapped around the big guy's waist and their heads level. Dean grinned.

"You said I could take the lead," he pointed out, rubbing his crotch against Frankie's stomach.

Frankie's big grin appeared. "You're such a nut." Dean received one of those amazing kisses anyway while Frankie walked them over to the bed. They collapsed together, Frank pinning Dean down, not that he cared. Then Frank's mouth shifted, going down his neck, his chest, his abdomen. When Frank reached his waist, he opened Dean's pants and pulled them off. Now Dean was naked and Frank still fully clothed.

"Been having some new fantasies?" Dean asked. "Or do you want some help with those clothes?"

Frank grinned at him. "I could strip for you."

"No music," Dean warned. "I don't want to wake Liza."

Frank rolled his eyes. "She could sleep through a train wreck, Dean. And you know it."

"Yeah, well..." Dean smiled at him. "Maybe I don't want anyone walking in before we're done." He wagged his eyebrows up at Frankie. "So are you gonna strip or what?"

True to his word, Frank made a production out of taking off his shirt, taking time to flex those awesome shoulders. Oh, yeah. Then Frankie shimmied out of his pants and underwear. Fully naked, he crawled back over Dean.

"Better?" he breathed, rubbing bare skin against bare skin.

"Much," Dean sighed, burying both hands in Frankie's dark curls. "I love you, Baby."

Frankie had that really big smile. "I know," he said. "And I am gonna take care of your heart."

Dean let Frankie kiss down his neck again, melting under his spouse's touch. Yeah, he trusted Frankie, more than he had ever trusted anyone before. He trusted Sam and Dad with his life, but he trusted Frankie with his heart.

* * *

Sam sat at a table in The Bar with Dad, Bobby and Jim. Several of the locals had insisted on shaking hands with Dad after they came in and offering congratulations, but now they were being left alone. Finally.

"Liza is going to be exactly six months old next week, right?" Dad asked, his dark eyes boring into Sam.

"Yeah," Sam replied slowly, "that's right. So what?"

He and Bobby exchanged a significant look.

"Why?" Sam demanded. "Is that the real reason you're here?"

Dad rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't miss my only grandchild's baptism, Sam."

"But you would miss the wedding?" Sam asked, amazed his father would admit to such a thing.

Dad glared at him. "As far as I'm concerned, they've been married for years. Hell, the first time I met Frank they were already as good as married."

Sam blinked hard at his father a few times. "They were?"

Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, that was a fun visit." He nudged John. "You never told me the married part."

John shook his head, lifting his beer. "You blame me?"

Bobby shrugged. "Personally, I liked Frank right off, even though I was expecting him to be a woman." Bobby chuckled. "You shoulda seen your daddy's face when he figured out this huge guy was the Frankie Dean had been talking about nonstop since the day before." He snort-chuckled loudly.

"I'm still waiting for the explanation of why I have been kept in the dark," Pastor Jim said calmly. "I have been operating under the delusion I was a close friend of the family. Like Bobby."

Dad sighed heavily. "Well, Jim..." He frowned deeply. "Honestly, I don't know what to tell you. Bobby knows because when Dean had his first, uh..."

"Menstrual cycle?" Sam guessed.

"Right. We were at his house. I thought Dean had internal bleeding and rushed off to the ER, leaving Sammy with Bobby." Dad shrugged again. "After being made to feel like a complete moron by the doctors, I came back to Bobby's. Bobby was so worried he browbeat me about what was wrong with Dean until I finally just told him to shut him up."

Bobby shrugged at Jim. "Wrong place, wrong time, I guess."

Jim scratched at his jaw. "Well, it goes a long way to explaining what Dean was doing with the altar boy in my choir room when he was sixteen."

Bobby choked on his beer while Dad's face flushed red.

"What?" Sam squeaked. "He what?"

Dad's hand flexed around his beer bottle. "You should've let me shoot him, Jim. It was just rocksalt."

Jim glared back. "You were inside my church!"

"That boy was eighteen!" Dad snapped. "He had no business..."

"Excuse me!" Bobby broke in. "But I thought we had some current business to discuss? Liza?"

"What about Liza?" Sam asked in concert with Jim.

Dad sighed heavily. "When the demon comes, it's always for an infant on the child's six month birthday." Dad's dark eyes met Sam's. "Exactly six months old."

"You're afraid it's coming for Liza," Sam whispered as icy tendrils of fear wrapped around his spine.

"We don't have any proof," Bobby told him, "but..."

"Better safe than sorry," Dad finished in a strong voice. "This damn thing isn't taking any more of my family. Not if I can help it."

Sam was having trouble breathing. He felt Dad's hand on one shoulder and Jim's squeezing his other arm.

"I'll stay too," Jim offered. "This sounds like a family matter."

Dad's hand shifted to rub his back. "It's going to be all right, Sammy," Dad assured him. "We won't let anything happen to Liza. Or Dean."

"What's the plan?" Sam demanded. "I want all the details."

"Bobby," Dad said with a nod. Bobby leaned forward on the table, his face as serious as Sam had ever seen it. They had better have a good damn plan.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48** -_ I promised action. Here's action!_

Dean stared across the back patio at his little brother in complete disbelief. "They what?"

"They're here to protect you and Liza," Sam repeated. "The information from Ellen proved everyone the demon has attacked happened on the night the infant turned six months old, exactly."

"Exactly six months," Dean said softly. "That's tomorrow."

"I know." Sam sighed. "And that's why they're not leaving before this weekend and why they won't get a motel room."

"And it would also explain why Bobby has been making all kinds of weird things in the kitchen," Dean observed.

"Salt probably won't keep this demon out," Sam admitted. "Apparently it's a real nasty sucker. We're going to need some stuff with a little more kick."

Dean stood slowly, staring at the back fence. Sam waited for his big brother's reaction. In a blur, Dean's arm swept back then forward in a baseball pitcher's arc, his beer bottle hurtling for the fence. It crashed against it, shattering into a thousand shards and splattering the wood fence with dark blotches of beer.

"Dean?" Sam asked softly, his brother's reaction scaring him.

"Never mind," Dean sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

Sam stood slowly. He hesitated before reaching out to touch his brother's shoulder. "They don't know it's coming," he said. "And even if it does, we won't let it get her." Unconsciously, he tightened his grip. "Or you."

"Not me," Dean insisted in a strained voice. He glanced back at Sam with shiny eyes. "It can't get Liza or Frank."

Sam frowned at his brother. "But Dean, that doesn't fit the pattern. Frank isn't her mother. I mean, technically, that would be you. So if it comes after anyone..." He couldn't finish that sentence.

Dean pressed a hand to his forehead, above one eye, like he might be getting a headache. "I, uh, had this crazy theory." His hand dropped away as he shook his head. "Okay, good. I'd rather it be after me." His eyes met Sam's. "Do you think we can talk Frankie into leaving for a few days? To keep him safe?"

Sam sighed as he held Dean by both shoulders. "You know he wouldn't leave, Dean. Besides, how could he possibly be safer away from us? We're family. We'll take care of him."

Dean breathed heavily before doing something he hadn't done since Sam was about fourteen. He pulled Sam into a hug and held on tight.

"I can't lose them, Sam," Dean mumbled against his chest. "I can't."

Sam held his big brother tightly, hoping to instill confidence. "You won't," he promised, leaning his cheek against the top of Dean's head. "I'm not going to let that happen. Not to you." He sighed as Dean's hands fisted into the back of his shirt. "You don't deserve this, Dean. I swear. We're going to protect you. All of you."

Sam waited until Dean's arms relaxed around him before pulling back a little. This reminded him an awful lot of when Frank had been taken and tortured. Sam squeezed Dean's shoulders, trying allay his big brother's fears.

"What was that crazy theory?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head. "Come on, Dean. I'd like to hear it." He ducked down, trying to catch his brother's eye. "Please?"

Dean shook off his hands. "It was stupid."

Sam sat down again, determined to hear it. "I'm not moving until you tell me. And I doubt it's really stupid." He glared at his brother. "You usually come up with some good theories."

Dean sighed, looking away. He cleared his throat nervously. "It was the night, that, uh..."

Sam's mind raced, trying to piece together why Dean wouldn't want to tell him. The only time Dean was this squeamish was when it involved Jessica.

"The night Jessica died?" Sam asked, confused.

Dean glanced at him, guilt written all over his face. He nodded. "I thought, maybe, it wasn't just women the demon was after, the way it harasses our family. First Mom, then Jessica. I thought, uh, it might come after Frank."

Sam frowned, trying to remember details from that horrible night. "You left the room," he said slowly. "And you never really said why."

Dean really looked guilty now. "I left to call Frank, make sure he was okay. And to tell him to double the salt lines."

Sam nodded slowly. "Can't blame you there." He had some guilt too. "I wish we'd been closer back then, so you could've told me."

Dean sunk back into the other lawn chair. "Honestly?" he asked. Sam nodded again. "Me too," Dean told him.

"Damn it," Dean muttered.

"Now what?" Sam asked, alarmed.

Dean gave him a sheepish look. "I broke my beer."

Sam chuckled as he handed over his half full bottle. "I don't mind sharing."

Dean met his gaze. "You're a good brother, Sammy. Always have been."

Sam gave him a quick smile. "No, I haven't," he replied. "But I am now. And I meant what I said."

After taking a quick swig of Sam's beer, Dean gave him a nod. "So what's the plan?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "You're not going to like it."

Dean sighed heavily, taking another swig before handing it back while shaking his head. "Which means Dad is planning on using my family as bait."

Sam felt a stab of guilt. "He found a special gun," he said. "It's supposed to be able to kill anything. That's anything supernatural, including a demon."

Dean's eyes widened. "No shit," he breathed. With a shake of his head, Dean muttered, "Better be worth it."

"It better be," Sam agreed readily. He met Dean's gaze. "Serene is staying too. She wants to be with us."

Dean sighed again as he stood. "I need to tell Frank the bad news. He better not have a stroke."

"Holler if you need some help," Sam offered.

Dean cuffed the side of his head lightly as he passed. "As if."

* * *

Frank did not care for the look on Dean's face. He couldn't recall having seen it before, except maybe when Dean read the article in the paper about Jake's trial being delayed - again. This was not good, whatever it was.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing he would not like the answer. "Does it have anything to do with why our houseguests aren't leaving?"

"Yeah," Dean breathed out. "Maybe you should sit down."

Oh, crap. Frank sat on the edge of the bed and gripped the mattress with both hands. "Okay, I'm ready."

Dean shook his head. "Doubt it." He took a deep breath. "Remember when I told you about the thing that killed my mom? And how Sam's girlfriend died the same way?"

"John said it was a demon, right?" Frank asked. Dean nodded. "So? Why am I sitting?"

Dean stood directly in front of him. "Dad has evidence that it comes on the night an infant turns six months old – exactly. For Liza that's tomorrow."

All the air left his lungs. Frank stared at Dean for a long silent moment until he remembered how to breathe again. "That's why they're here?" he asked weakly. "To protect Liza?"

Dean swallowed hard before nodding.

Frank took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slow. "Good," he said, and meant it. "Between you, John, Sam and Bobby, I feel pretty damned safe waiting for a demon to show."

Dean shook his head at Frank. "You might be putting too much faith in us."

"Nope," Frank insisted, standing. He cradled Dean's face in his hands. "As usual, you're not giving yourself enough credit." He smiled at his amazing spouse. "You're the one I trust. If you tell me this is going to work out, I'll believe you."

"It better," Dean whispered. "It damn well better." His eyes teared up. "I can't..." Dean's voice broke.

Frank pulled Dean into his arms. "Shut up," he whispered, rocking Dean gently from side to side. "Just shut up." He leaned down to nuzzle the side of Dean's face. "We're going to be fine. I trust you to make sure of it." He paused before adding, "My beautiful warrior."

Dean snorted, pulling back where Frank could see his teary eyes. "You big idiot."

At least he sounded better now. Frank wiped some of the excess moisture away with his hand. "Yeah, I guess I am," Frank admitted. "But I'm your idiot."

A smile broke through the despair in Dean's face. "Yes, dear."

"So when do we find out the big plan?" Frank asked.

Dean shook his head. "Not tonight," he said, his eyes pleading with Frank. "We'll corner Dad about it tomorrow." Dean went to the crib and picked up their sleeping baby. "Right now, all I want to do is snuggle up in bed with my family."

Dean actually used the word snuggle? He was more worried than Frank feared. Frank kicked off his shoes and pulled back the bed covers. "Planning on doing any sleeping?" he asked.

Dean shook his head. "Probably not."

Frank nodded and waited for Dean, still fully clothed, to climb into bed with Liza. When they were situated, Frank crawled in beside them. He rested his head against a free spot on Dean's chest and wrapped an arm around Liza. Comforted by being in the arms of his beloved warrior, Frank found his eyelids too heavy to hold open. He drifted off into dreams of vicious lions surrounding his gladiator, who fended them off with his sword and amazing skill.

Frank woke with a hand stroking through his hair. "Dean?" he mumbled.

"Yeah," Dean replied softly.

Frank forced his eyes open. It was still dark outside, the room lit by their bedside lamp. "What time is it?"

"A little before five," Dean said. "You do know you're not going to work today?"

Frank nodded, snuggling closer. "I'll call in sick." He focused on Liza, sleeping peacefully on the bed between them. "Do you really think it's coming night?"

"I don't know," he said, his hand still making soothing strokes through Frank's hair. "Does it really matter if I think so?"

Frank shook his head, his hand brushing gently over Liza's bald head. "Think she'll have dark or light hair?"

Dean's chuckle vibrated in his chest. "I hope it's dark and curly. Like yours."

Frank looked up at his spouse, his partner. "But I want it to be lighter, like yours."

Dean gave him a small smile. "Arm wrestle you for it."

Frank chuckled, shaking his head. "You're such a nut."

"And you wanted to marry me," Dean said softly. "You big idiot."

Frank scooted up to kiss him. "No choice," he said. "How could I turn down anybody as gorgeous as you?"

Dean sighed, looking down between them at Liza. "Sometimes I wish you had," he said sadly.

"Dean!" Frank snapped.

Then Dean's eyes met his. "But I'm glad you didn't. Honest, Frank. I've never been happier in my life."

Frank raised his eyebrows at Dean. "Even with a demon breathing down our necks?"

"Yep." Dean smiled at him. "You?"

Frank smiled back. "Yep."

Dean's hand shifted to rub along Frank's arm. "I won't let anything hurt her, Frank. I swear."

Frank nodded, resting back against Dean's chest. "I know, Babe." He yawned widely. "I know."

* * *

Dean double-checked that Frankie and Liza were still wearing the charms which arrived for Bobby this morning. They were supposed to prevent anyone wearing them from being possessed. When he looked across the room, both Sam and Serene showed him their charms without being asked. The sun was setting and Bobby had all of his protective charms and powders and crap all over the house. Pastor Jim had buckets of holy water ready and had spent most of the day blessing all of them and the house.

They still didn't know if the demon was coming at all, but if it did it would arrive tonight. Liza fussed in Frankie's arms. He looked to Frank.

"I think she needs a diaper," Frank told him.

"I got it," Dean said, taking her out of Frank's arms. He needed the distraction anyway.

Dean placed her on the changing table, which was set up on top of the dresser. Using one hand, he held Liza in place while he grabbed a clean diaper with the other. As he cleaned her up, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight out. Pretending not to notice, Dean slipped the clean diaper on and fastened it. Once Liza was securely back in his arms, Dean turned around slowly to survey the room.

A dark shape stood in the corner.

"Looking for something?" Dean asked, trying to sound casual but hoping he might be loud enough to alert the others in the den. Why did they think it would be coming through the front door?

The dark shape chuckled menacingly as it strode forward. It looked human, but the eyes glowed a nasty yellow, the color of stale urine. Yeah, this was really bad.

"Dean Winchester," it said, shaking its head. "My oh my, you must be such a disappointment to John." The demon chuckled. "He had such high hopes for you, you know. To follow in his footsteps, become the ultimate hunter." Those unsettling yellow eyes pulsed with energy as they raked over Dean. "Oh how the mighty have fallen."

The bedroom door slammed open, Dad and Sam charging through. The demon waved a hand. First Dad and then Sam sailed through the air to slam against the far wall, pinned to its surface with their feet dangling uselessly above the floor. Dean held Liza to his chest, her head above his shoulder so she wouldn't be in danger of suffocating.

"Well, well, well, speak of the devil..." It laughed. "I mean, of course, of the daddy." It walked up to Dad to lean right in his face. "I was just saying what a huge disappointment Dean has been to you, running off and getting himself knocked up at a time like this." It laughed louder. "As if that accident of birth wasn't enough of a freak, then you had to go and raise them like your little soldiers, always on the road. Do you have any idea how much they stood out? How people talked behind their backs, making fun of the little freaks?"

"Shut up!" Sam snapped, straining against his invisible bonds.

Dean couldn't imagine why he wasn't against the wall too, unless it was because the damn thing had plans for Liza.

"Oh, Sammy," it said, moving to Sam.

"It's Sam," he snapped.

It smiled at Sam, making Dean's stomach lurch. "Such spirit. You're one of my favorites, you know. Yes, I have such high hopes for you. But if you don't make it, well..." It turned to face Dean. "Perhaps your darling little niece will measure up instead."

It was so hard to wait, to allow the plan to be put into play. Having Liza in the same room with the demon responsible for his mother's death made it worse. Dean's heart pounded in his chest and the blood rushed so swiftly in his ears he could barely hear over the roar. He had to trust that Jim and Bobby were doing their part, right now, and Frank and Serene were safely out of the way.

"If you touch her," Dad growled.

"What?" The demon smiled at Dad. "Johnny, I really don't think you're in a position to do anything." It jerked its chin at Dean. "Neither are you, freak."

Its laugh drained hope from the room, filling Dean with dread and fear, but he remained steady. Now was not the time to fail. All of his life he had felt like a failure. A glance down reminded Dean of one good thing, one overall success, he could claim in his life. Emboldened, Dean glared back in those sinister yellow eyes.

"Don't you talk about my son like that!" Dad shouted.

The demon glared at him. It raised a hand and Dad's face twisted in pain.

"Dad!" Sam shouted. He looked across the room with wide, scared eyes. "Dean, do something!"

"Dean can't do anything," the demon said lightly. "Not without endangering his precious baby."

The demon flicked its hand and Dean felt a force slam against his jaw, forcing him to stagger back a step. At least it wasn't hurting Dad at the moment. A second flick of its hand and the force of a heavy blow hit him in on the other cheek. Again he stumbled, desperately trying to maintain his balance and keep Liza safe.

"Stay, Dean," it ordered. "Or I'll do that to your darling child." It returned its attention to Dad. "As for you, Johnny-boy, you have been a major thorn in my side. It's high time I took care of you."

Dad's jaw clenched as he writhed against the wall again. Then his face relaxed and the demon appeared confused. It motioned with its hand to Dad again, with no results.

Dad and Sam both slid down the wall to land heavily on their feet. Dad slumped all the way down to the floor, but he was still breathing. Relieved, Dean glared at the demon.

"Take your best shot," he jeered, backing through the open door.

As Frankie reached for Liza and Bobby held out the Colt, Sam rushed the demon. It was a futile effort, of course. The demon's telekinesis might not be working, but those things were freaky strong. It sent Sam hurtling back against the wall, this time denting the sheetrock. Jim's voice droned on in the den, reciting an ancient spell binding the demon's powers one by one.

Dean snatched the Colt and took aim. "Hey!" he shouted to get its attention.

The demon spun to face him. It put up a hand, but nothing happened.

"You really ought to do your homework before you come in the home of a freak," he said sternly. "We know the right kind of people."

Dean pulled the trigger, his shot aimed to kill. The bullet entered the demon's head and sparks erupted from the point of impact. Before his amazed eyes, Dean watched a lightning show envelop the possessed body. He held his breath as the demon shook violently, the lightning streaking along its body. The the body fell, limp and lifeless, to the floor.

Dean moved to stand over the body, keeping the Colt ready. It was dead. Really and truly dead.

"Call an ambulance!" Dean shouted before moving to check on his brother and father.

Sam was a little dazed. Dad was a different story. Blood trickled from his mouth and he was barely coherent.

"Good job," he breathed, grasping Dean's arm. "You did it, son."

"Yeah, Dad." Dean set the Colt aside to try and make Dad more comfortable. "We did it. Now hang on, there's an ambulance coming."

"Dad?" Sam asked from over Dean's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Hide the Colt," Dad whispered. "It's too powerful. Protect it."

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Dean insisted. "Just hang on."

"Don't die, Dad," Sam whispered, grabbing at one of Dad's hands. "Don't you dare die."

Dean left his brother talking to Dad. He opened one of his dresser drawers to retrieve another old Colt. Hiding the real one, Dean aimed the imitation at the far corner of the room and fired it over Sam's head. Sam jumped, his head snapping around to glare at Dean.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

Dean set the other Colt on the floor by Dad. "The cops can tell when a gun has been fired, Sam. Can't let them take the real one."

"Good thinking," Dad breathed. He held up a hand which Dean grasped, relieved to feel the strength of Dad's grip. An ambulance's siren sounded in the distance, growing progressively closer.

"They're almost here," Dean assured his father. "You're gonna be fine."

Dad grimaced at him. "That's my line, Dean." He chuckled, then grimaced again. "Shit. I hate demons."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49** – _a reviewer asked for a specific scene, so it's in here. See how nice I treat you?_

Sam sat next to his big brother in the ER waiting room. Dean dozed lightly, jumping awake occasionally to peer through the room with bleary eyes.

"Any word?" Dean asked, rubbing a hand over his weary face.

"Not yet," Sam sighed. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

Dean snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, right." He stood up to stretch. "Coffee? I'm buying."

Sam nodded, his eyes straying back to the door the doctor should come through. A few minutes later Dean returned with two steaming styrofoam cups. He handed one over. Sam sipped at it experimentally. It was straight black.

"Thanks," he said as Dean sat beside him.

Dean's cell went off. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Damn, must be Frankie. We've been here all night."

He pulled out his cell. "Yeah? … No, nothing yet. … Nah, I'll let you know if we need Lisa." Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "I will, I promise. … Me too, Baby. Bye." He shoved his phone in the breast pocket of his shirt.

"How're things at the house?" Sam asked.

"Fine." Dean ran a hand over his head. "I'll bet Serene is freaked, though."

Sam sighed as he stretched out his long legs. "Probably. She's been great about all this, though."

"A real trooper," Dean agreed. His eyes cut to the side to look at Sam. "You should marry that girl before she comes to her senses."

Sam raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't know, Dean. It doesn't seem fair to Serene."

"Fair?" Dean asked. He didn't sound angry, just curious and confused. "What do you mean, fair?"

Sam shrugged and motioned around them. "She never asked for this life, Dean. How is it fair to thrust it on her like this?"

Both of Dean's eyebrows rose. "And was it fair for us to grow up with it?" he asked softly.

It might have been the first time Sam had heard his brother utter a disparaging remark about their childhood.

"Life isn't fair, Sammy," Dean continued. "The trick isn't to figure out what's fair, the trick is figuring out how to be happy anyway. Besides," he sighed, "if you don't ask her soon I'm afraid she's going to kick your ass."

Sam bumped his brother's shoulder. "I didn't know you liked her that much."

Dean grinned and shrugged. "If you're happy, I'm happy. And Sam, I got news for you: you're happy."

Sam returned his brother's infectious grin. "Yeah, I guess I am." He chuckled as a new thought occurred to him. "But you want to hear something funny?"

"Sure." Dean shrugged and sipped at his coffee.

"If Jess had ever met Serene, she would've hated her," Sam whispered with a grin.

Dean chuckled, shoving Sam lightly in the arm. "Serene can be an acquired taste."

"Winchester?" A voice boomed through the waiting area. Sam jumped to his feet beside his brother.

The doctor looked familiar, but Sam couldn't place him.

"Hi, Dean," the man said, shaking Dean's hand. "I'm sorry to see you again under these circumstances. You must be Sam." The doctor shook his hand as well.

"How's our dad?" Dean asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

The doctor sighed, looking each of them in the eye in turn. "Well, it isn't good. We managed to stop the internal hemorrhaging, but some of his organs have been bruised. He looks more like he's been in a severe wreck than the victim of an attack." He shrugged. "I'm afraid only time will tell for sure. He's in good health, strong, so I'd say he has a good chance."

Sam grabbed the doctor's arm before he could turn away. "What are the odds, doctor?" He heard the shake in his own voice when he spoke.

The doctor glanced away before replying, "Well, for the average person, I'd put the odds for his survival around twenty-five percent. But considering this is Dean's father and the fact he's stable, I'm going to have to say it's closer to fifty percent."

Not exactly the words of comfort Sam was hoping for, but the grin on Dean's face allayed his worst fears.

"So can we see him?" Dean asked.

"Sure," the doctor said. "He's in ICU. You can both go in for a few minutes, then we'll have to ask you to leave."

"Thanks, doc," Dean said, squaring his shoulders.

Sam followed closely, trying to prepare himself for the worst but unable to actually do it. The thought of Dad not making it, not pulling through, was inconceivable. Dad had to be all right. He had to be.

There weren't any solid walls in ICU, they were all glass. Dad's eyes were closed when they walked in but he looked normal, like he was sleeping. Sam really expected Dad's eyes to open the instant they stood beside him.

"Hey, Dad," Dean said softly as he picked up one of Dad's hands. "You know what this reminds me of? Remember the ghost that threw you through a window? You had a concussion for a week." He chuckled. "And you think I'm a pain in the ass with a concussion."

Sam stood aside, feeling left out, until Dean jerked his head. With a hard swallow, Sam dragged his feet closer to the bed. He pressed his hand inside Dad's, relieved by how warm it was.

"Wake up, Dad," Sam pleaded. "You just have to wake up and everything will be fine." He felt his eyes water when Dad did not move, did not respond. "Come on, Dad."

Sam felt himself pulled away and forced out of the ICU. Dean pushed him out into the waiting area.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean was saying, his voice so reassuring and strong. Sam leaned into his brother's grip, wanting him to make it all better. "We'll come back during visiting hours. If there's any change, they'll call us."

Sam nodded. He felt like he was in a daze as Dean led him outside and put him in the car. He did not even notice which car they were in and their surroundings flashed by unseen.

"Come on, Sam," Dean said gently, pulling him from the car. Again Sam followed docilely, unable to think for himself. When they stepped through the door, he was attacked by something soft that smelled good. He wrapped his arms around Serene and held her tight. They stood there for a long time, just holding on.

* * *

"Is he okay?" Frank whispered, handing Liza to Dean.

Dean held her close, breathing in her sweet baby smell. "No," he finally said. "But I'm sure Serene can take care of Sam." He leaned heavily against Frank's broad chest. Two strong arms enveloped him and Liza. Dean closed his eyes and breathed in Frank's heady musky scent. All they could do now was wait.

* * *

Frank laid sleeping Liza in her crib. He had wondered if he would need a crowbar to extract her from Dean's arms tonight. Almost. Liza's body relaxed as she stretched out in her sleep, making Frank smile. Damn, she was cute. He started to pull the curtain around her crib, but Frank just couldn't bear the thought of Liza being out of sight. He shoved the curtain further back.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked in a tired, world weary voice.

Frank shrugged as he turned around. "Coming to take care of you."

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his head hanging down. Now his head lifted until Frank could see his eyes. "What?"

Frank pushed his spouse gently to the bed. He removed Dean's boots, lifting each of his legs on to the bed. Once he had Dean situated, Frank crawled on to the bed beside him. Dean acted so complacent, allowing Frank to gather him up and hold him close. With Dean's head resting on his shoulder, Frank allowed himself to feel the relief which had been threatening since last night over the demon's failed attempt. Of course, their victory had been tainted by John's injuries and Frank felt guilty over just how relieved he was.

Dean's head rubbed against his shoulder. Frank looked down into eyes which looked so lost and hurt.

"What?" Frank asked, bringing a hand up to stroke Dean's cheek. "What is it?"

Dean's eyes closed and his head shook as his arm wrapped around Frank. Tight.

"Yeah," Frank breathed. "I feel guilty. I like John, I really do, but I'm glad it's him in the hospital and not you." He pressed a kiss to the top of Dean's head. "I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel."

When Dean's head lifted he looked on the verge of tears, but Frank was pretty sure this was about as close as his spouse was going to get.

"I can handle it being Dad," Dean said slowly. "But if it were you..." He swallowed hard before closing his eyes and lowering his head back down to Frank's chest.

Frank sighed as he stroked his hand over Dean's fuzzy hair. So this was what was eating at Dean. He wished he had the magic words to make everything better, something which could ease Dean's conscience. Well, the next few days ought to be lots of fun. Then again, it wasn't like Frank wanted to be anywhere else. This was just one more speedbump. They would make it over. Intact. As usual.

"Love you," Frank whispered into Dean's hair.

"Idiot," Dean mumbled against his chest. Those protective arms held him tight until Frank finally allowed sleep to take him.

* * *

Yellow Eyes. Bone-chilling laugh. The demon. It was coming for him, for his family. It was here.

John's eyes flew open, expecting to see yellow eyes and hear a cackling voice. Instead he was greeted with low lights and digital monitors. This looked suspiciously like the ICU in a hospital. He groped around for a call button, but it was too difficult to move. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe or move. What in the hell was going on?

A beeping sound began, growing steadily faster. John's eyes roved the room, seeking the source of the new noise. His breathe caught in his chest, a painful lump he could not discharge.

What happened? Where was Dean? What did the demon do?

Running footsteps accompanied the incessant beeping.

"Easy, Mister Winchester," a woman's voice crooned. She injected something into his IV. "This will help you calm down."

Calm down? How could he calm down when he didn't know what happened? He managed to grab one of her wrists.

"My son?" he croaked, his throat raw and rough, the act of pushing air through it excruciating.

"Sshhhh..." she hushed him. "Visiting hours don't start for another half hour, but since you're awake, I'll see if we can make an exception. All right? Let me call your doctor."

Visiting hours? That sounded promising. Maybe Dean was waiting to see him. Yeah, that was probably it. He felt his body relaxing, his anxieties easing. The annoying beeping sound in the room slowed.

When the nurse returned she was accompanied by a man. When the man came closer, John could see it was Sam.

"Sammy?" he croaked.

Sam's face split in a wide smile. There was nothing quite like Sam with a real smile on his face, it made him look like he did when he was eight and really believed his big brother could fix everything wrong with the world.

"Hey, Dad." Sam accepted a small stool rolled in by the nurse. He sat near John and held his hand. "We've been worried about you."

John looked past his younger son, hoping to see Dean.

"Dean's at home," Sam told him. "We've all been taking turns sitting in the waiting room. You've been out of it for about a week, Dad."

A week? He had been in the hospital for a week and was still in ICU? And why was Sam here? But there were more pertinent details to uncover. John crooked an eye at Sammy. "Throat?"

"Oh, yeah. They had you on a ventilator. Just took it off last night." Sam gave him an apologetic smile. "The doctors warned us you'd probably have a sore throat."

John gave his son a short nod. Maybe Dean called Sam and that was why he was here? If only this fog in his brain would lift and allow him to think.

"They're not going to let all of us in at the same time and Dean usually has the evening shift, after Frank gets home from work." Sam chuckled as his grip on John's hand tightened. "Jim and Bobby keep getting into fights over who is going to come up here with Dean. Apparently Jim thinks he needs bonding time, and Bobby acts like Jim is horning in or something. Aren't they supposed to be friends?"

John shook his head, amazed at the issues coming up in his absence. "What happened?" he managed to ask. Now maybe he would find out why Sam was here.

Sam frowned at him and those piercing eyes searched his. "Don't you remember, Dad?"

John tried to search his memory, but all he could come up with was glowing yellow eyes and Sam pinned to the wall beside him. John gripped Sam's hand.

"Hurt you?" he wanted to know.

Sam shook his head. "The plan worked perfectly," he whispered. "You know, for a change." He looked worried. "Maybe I should have them call your doctor."

John shook his head, hanging on to his son. He did not want Sam leaving. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

Dean rushed into the waiting area where Jim and Bobby both waited for him. Jim had been at the house when Bobby called, but had driven over immediately so Dean could find someone to take care of Liza. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "What happened?"

Bobby had both hands up. "Nothing's wrong, Dean. Now relax."

"Nothing?" Dean glared at the older man. "What the hell do you mean nothing? If nothing's wrong, why did I have to drop Liza off with my mother-in-law and hurry my ass down here?"

"There is an issue," Jim said calmly. "But your father is awake."

Dean took a deep breath of relief. "God, the way you were acting, I thought..." He shook his head. "Okay, so what's the issue? And where's Sam?"

"That's kind of the issue," Bobby said slowly. "See, uh, John won't let him leave."

Dean glanced between the two old family friends. "Come again?"

"If Sam attempts to leave his father's side, John becomes irrational. He has pulled his IV out twice in attempts to follow Sam," Jim explained.

"Ah, crap," Dean muttered. He sighed, shaking his head. "Dad isn't awake."

Jim and Bobby exchanged a look like they thought maybe Dad wasn't the only crazy person they needed to deal with.

"Look, Dad has nightmares about Sam leaving for college. Sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night and he goes out looking for Sam." Dean sighed again. "I'll see if I can settle him down."

Neither Jim or Bobby said a word as he pressed by. Dean blew by the ICU staff, ignoring anyone calling his name. When he rounded into Dad's area, Sam sat by Dad's side talking softly.

"Hey, Dad," Dean called out cheerfully. He patted his father on the leg. "How're you feeling?"

He gripped Sam's shoulder with one hand. Sam looked relieved by his arrival.

"Dean, look," Dad said in a rough voice, "I found Sam."

"He wasn't lost, Dad," Dean told his father gently. "And his girlfriend has been looking for him."

Dad frowned. "She's dead, Dean."

"I'm talking about Serene, Dad. Remember Serene?" Dean prompted. "Good looking. Great pies. Total bitch."

"Dean!" Sam snapped.

Dad nodded seriously. "Never did like her. Sam can do better."

This was better, Dad was thinking more in the present than the past now. "You know where you are, right?" Dean sat on the edge of Dad's bed.

Dad's eyes roved the area. "I.C.U.?"

Dean nodded at him. "Do you remember why?"

Dad's brow furrowed. "I found Sam," he repeated slowly.

Sam gave Dean a wide-eyed look of total confusion. Dean couldn't blame his brother, they never had discussed what happened between him and Dad while Sam was in school.

"Sam came back, Dad," Dean tried instead. "He's been back for over a year, staying with me and Frankie. You don't have to worry about him."

Dad smiled at Dean. "He came back?"

"Yeah, Dad," Dean assured his father. "Why don't you go back to sleep now? Sam and I can come see you in a few hours."

Dad's eyes locked on Sam. "You'll come back?" he demanded, his voice loud and rough.

"Yeah, Dad," Sam assured him. "I promise."

Dad's gaze shifted to Dean. "I'll bring him back, Dad. I swear."

Dad sighed, his grip on Sam relaxing. With his other hand he held up two fingers. Dean nodded in agreement as he took off his watch and handed it over. "Two hours, Dad, you can time us. We'll be back. Now get some sleep."

Dad nodded, his eyes slipping shut. He patted Sam's arm once before his hand dropped to his side. Almost instantly, a light snore came from Dad. Dean let out a sigh of relief.

"Okay, Sammy," he whispered, "I sprung you for a couple of hours. Let's go."

Sam stuck close by Dean as they left the ICU, with a couple of the nurses waving to them.

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded in a strained whisper.

Dean shrugged. "Dad was having a nightmare," he explained.

"A nightmare?" Sam said incredulously. "Dad? Our father? Was having a nightmare? Are you serious?"

"Yes, Sam," Dean sighed as he opened the door to the waiting area. Bobby and Jim jumped to their feet at Dean and Sam's appearance. "He is human."

"B-but..." Sam sputtered. "I-I-I didn't mean..."

"Yeah, I know," Dean cut him off as they were stopped by their old family friends. "He's fine," Dean assured them. "Sam and I are going to grab some lunch. I promised Dad we'd come back in two hours."

"I'll stay," Bobby offered, retaking his seat.

"I will as well," Jim said with a nod. "Just in case."

Dean shrugged. This would give him and Sam a little time to discuss the more human aspect of Dad's personality. They reached the Impala without Sam saying a single word. Once they were inside, however, Sam turned in the seat to face him.

"What kind of nightmare?" he demanded. "Dad wouldn't let go of my arm."

Dean shoved his key in the ignition but did not start the car. "Ever since you left for Stanford, Dad has had nightmares about that fight." He glanced over at his brother. "He never wanted you to leave."

Sam sighed, slumping against the door. "All I wanted was to go to college," he muttered.

"I know, Sammy," Dean assured his brother. "Dad screwed up and he knows it. And since that fight, part of him has been looking for you."

Sam's eyes grew wet and he looked away, out the window. "We should eat," he mumbled.

"Want to go out? Or grab a couple of sandwiches at the house?" Dean asked. "Oh, remind me to call Anna and tell her she's going to have Liza until Frank's off work."

Sam's gaze remained fixed out the window, so Dean figured eating out was probably not a good idea.

* * *

Sam. Sam was gone. Sam left. Sam!!

John's eyes flew open to find an empty room. He looked around desperately. Where was Sam? He tried to sit up, but god, he hurt. Then John noticed he was clutching something in his left hand. When he examined it, he discovered it was Dean's watch. Now why would he have Dean's watch?

John stared at it as he attempted to push past the thick fog in his brain. Dean wouldn't have left his watch here without a reason. Slowly an image of Dean and Sam, standing right here beside him, formed. They had both been here. The watch proved it. His panic easing, John tried to relax. Sleep was so damned tempting, but he wanted to see his boys, make certain they were safe.

Familiar voices reached his ears. John turned his head toward the noise, hopeful.

"He is awake!" Dean grinned as he walked up. "Hey, Dad. You look like crap, you know." Dean held his hand firmly, as if he might slip away. It was the first indication John had of how worried his sons were.

John had expected Sam to hold back and talk a little before maybe taking his hand. Instead Sam walked right up to him and leaned down to rest his head on John's chest. With a tentative hand, John stroked Sam's head as he looked to Dean for an explanation.

"We've been worried," Dean told him in a tight voice, squeezing his hand. Then the smile returned. "But at least now you look like crap. When they first brought you in, you looked like shit."

A chuckle came out and John enjoyed the pleased sparkle in Dean's eye. "Thanks," he grunted.

Sam's head lifted and his eyes were red-rimmed, like he had either been crying or was about to. "Dad? I'm not going back to school."

John shook his head, catching Sam's cheek with one hand. "It's okay, Sammy. It's fine." He rubbed his thumb over Sam's smooth cheekbone. "As long as you're with Dean."

Sam shook his head with a half-choked chuckle. "You would say that," he accused, but his son sounded more like his usual self. Sam did not accuse him of being overbearing or unreasonable, which was the final proof John needed to see how close he had come to not waking up this time.

"Want to tell me what happened?" he asked, gazing at his sons.

"Later, Dad. I promise," Dean told him. "For right now, you just need to get better. Look, Bobby and Jim are outside and would like to see you. Is that all right?"

"Sam stays?" John figured there had to be some kind of compromise. They did not allow a multitude of visitors to ICU.

Dean shrugged. "He can. I'll send 'em in one by one. All right?"

"You'll come back," John demanded.

Dean smiled again. "Yeah, Dad. No problem."

John sighed as he released Dean's hand with a nod. "How long?"

Dean gave him a quizzical look. "How long before I send in Bobby?"

John shook his head. "Home. How long?"

Dean gave his arm a squeeze. "I'll have them page your doctor so I can ask. Now I'll go send Bobby in." Dean grinned as he left as though it were nothing to worry about, but John figured it was more of an act than anything. Sometimes he really loved that kid.


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50 **_- Honest, I don't know where John having memory problems came from, it just happened!_

Sam tried to help his big brother prepare for Dad's homecoming, but at the moment he was about one smart-ass comment from knocking Dean out. It was a good thing Liza started getting fussy to distract Dean from his single-minded obsession.

"What's wrong, Lizzie?" Dean asked as he scooped her off of the floor.

"Maybe she misses all of her toys," Sam suggested. The floor had been cleaned within an inch of its life and was devoid of all toys. Poor kid was probably in shock or withdrawal or something.

Dean gave him a worried look. "Really? You think so?"

"And it's past her lunchtime," Sam pointed out.

"Da-da-da-da-da-da-da," Liza babbled in his arms, looking to Sam like she was trying to order a meal.

"Hungry, huh?" Dean asked with a smile. "Well, let's see what we have in the kitchen."

Sam's phone went off as Dean left the den. He pulled it out of his pocket, shocked to see his caller id listed 'Frank'. Sam took a step back, towards his bedroom, to answer.

"Hello?"

"How insane is it there, Sam?" Frank asked. "Is Dean driving you up the wall?"

Sam had to chuckle at just how well Frank seemed to know his big brother. "Yeah, pretty much," he admitted. "If this house were any cleaner, you'd be able to eat off the floor."

"Well, Liza does that anyway, so maybe it's a good thing," Frank replied.

"Funny," Sam replied.

"I'm about to go pick up your dad. Want me to grab some lunch, too?" Frank asked. "I can order it from Serene and I'm sure she'll bring it out to the car for us."

"That would be great," Sam told him. "I don't think either one of us has eaten today. Are you sure you don't want me with you when you pick up Dad?"

"Nope," Frank stated flatly. "The man has barely looked at me when I've gone to see him in the hospital. I want to be sure he hadn't forgotten me."

Sam sighed, glancing guiltily at the kitchen where he could hear Dean talking Liza through her lunch. "And if he has?" he asked softly, his voice pitched to be heard by only Frank.

"Then we're past due for a nice long talk," Frank said in a sure voice. "Don't worry, Sam. It'll be fine. And if I have any problems, I'll just play the Dean card."

"The what?" Sam asked, startled.

"The Dean card," Frank repeated. "You know, accept me or risk alienating the son who has never even talked back." He chuckled. "Actually, I'm kind of hoping to be able to use it. I'd pay good money to see the expression on John's face."

"You must like living dangerously," Sam commented, imagining how Dad might react to something like that hitting him right out of the blue.

"You know it," Frank said lightly. "I am married to your brother."

"Good point," Sam conceded. "Call if you have any problems."

"Sure thing," Frank assured him. "But I won't. I should be there in about an hour."

"Good luck," Sam said, "you're going to need it."

Frank snorted into the phone. "Thanks a lot. Some brother-in-law you are. Later, Sam."

"Bye, Frank," Sam chuckled, hanging up his cell.

"Frank?" Dean asked. Sam spun around to find his brother staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Why were you talking to Frank?"

"Uh..." Sam's mind raced. "Just wanted to be sure he hadn't changed his mind about one of us going with him, that's all."

"And?" Dean demanded.

Sam shrugged at his brother. "He's determined to pick up Dad by himself."

Dean's shoulders relaxed a little as he nodded. "Yeah, I know. I've been trying to talk him out of it. Dad doesn't seem to recognize him at all."

"I don't get it," Sam told his brother. "It wasn't like Dad was hit in the head."

Dean shook his head as he turned back to the kitchen. Liza was in her high chair, happily pounding a spoon covered with orange goop all over her tray.

"They found all kinds of internal bruising, Sam," Dean said in a tight voice. "Who knows what the demon might have done to his brain."

"Damn," Sam breathed as the statement sunk in. "I didn't think of that."

Dean sighed as he sat at the table. "Yeah, well..." Dean's head shook as he opened another jar of baby food. "Welcome to the real world, Mary Poppins."

"Dean..." Sam muttered as he joined his brother at the table. "I haven't been living in a fantasy, and you know it."

"Yeah, you have," Dean snapped with a hard glare. "You keep acting like once Dad is released from the hospital everything will be just fine. Hell, just last night he thought you were back in school again."

Sam studied the surface of the table. Dean did have a point there. Damn it.

"I know," he said in a small voice, one finger tracing the woodgrain in the table. "But he remembered later."

Dean's groan brought Sam's attention snapping back to his big brother. One of Dean's hands grasped his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that, Sammy. Dad's going to be all right." Dean squeezed his shoulder again. "He will."

Sam nodded, desperately trying to believe his big brother.

* * *

Frank took a deep breath before walking into John's room. John was dressed and in a wheelchair, ready to go. One of the nurses, Vicky Lynn, stood behind John.

"See?" she said cheerfully. "I told you Frank would be here any minute. Frank, John has already signed all the forms. I have a couple for you, though. Can you wait here for just a minute?"

"Sure, Vicky," he agreed with a nod.

The moment she was out of the room, John glared at Frank. "What are you doing here?"

Frank forced a smile on his face. "Picking you up. What does it look it, John?"

"When did we," John motioned between them, "get on a first name basis?"

Frank decided now was as good a time as any. He leaned right over his father-in-law and attempted to use his size to his advantage. "Right before I married your son, Dean." He stared at John's wide eyes for a moment. "Any other questions?"

"Uh, Frank?" Vicky Lynn's voice came from the doorway. "Everything all right?"

Frank straightened up and turned around smiling. "No problem. Where do I sign?"

She gave him a clipboard with information on John's follow-up visits, a list of Do's and Don'ts, mostly Don'ts, and the numbers for the hospital as well as all of John's doctors. Frank signed the forms stating he had all the information and was taking John. Vicky Lynn gave him all of his copies. Frank stuffed them into his pants pocket.

"Mind if I push him?" Frank asked, knowing Vicky Lynn would do almost anything he asked.

"Sure, Frank. But I'll have to accompany you to the front doors," she warned him.

"Great," Frank replied. "You can wait with my father-in-law while I get the car."

She giggled. "It's so hard to think of you as being married. I mean, I cut the announcement out of the paper. That's a wonderful family portrait, by the way."

"Thanks," Frank said with a nod as he pushed John into the hallway.

"It's just, you were such a party animal. To think of you as settled down, with a family..." she shook her head as she pressed the button for the elevator. "It's strange, you know. I can't wait for your high school reunion. My little sister thinks I'm making it all up."

Frank rolled his eyes. "She would."

"Excuse me," John said in a strong voice. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Frank. "Does he know everybody in this town?"

Vicky Lynn giggled at him. "Well, sure. It's Frank!"

The elevator opened and Vicky Lynn made the other occupants stand aside so Frank could wheel John in. Once they were downstairs, Frank left John in Vicky Lynn's charge while he brought the car around. He had intentionally borrowed the Impala with the argument John would feel more at ease in it. It was actually to impress upon John just how close he was to Dean. Dean had handed over the keys without any hesitation, which had both pleased and surprised Frank.

Even a huge fight with Dean would have been worth the current look of absolute shock on John's face. Frank walked slowly around the car to open the passenger door.

"Can you do it, or do you need help?" he asked pleasantly.

John shot him a dirty look before pushing out of the wheelchair. He was steady on his feet as he walked the few steps to the car. John closed the passenger door himself with a hard look at Frank. Frank gave Vicky Lynn a reassuring smile before heading back to the other side of the car.

"Tell your sister hi for me," he said.

"I will. Bye Frank!" She waved as he sat behind the wheel.

"This is Dean's car," John said in a accusing tone as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"Yes, it is," Frank replied evenly.

"What are you doing with it?" John demanded.

Frank did not take his eyes off the road. "I asked Dean if I could take it to pick you up. I figured you'd be more comfortable in it, since it used to be your car."

He could feel John's eyes boring into him. "You sound like you know an awful lot about my family."

"Well," Frank tried to keep his voice light and even, "I have been a part of it for a while, so I suppose I do know a lot." He glanced over. "And that includes the family business, by the way."

"You're a hunter?" John asked slowly.

Frank laughed. "No way. I sell household appliances." The next glance showed him John was confused. "You know," Frank prompted, "like dishwashers, washing machines, toasters. We cover the whole range. If it's used in the home and can be plugged in, we carry it." He snorted, suddenly remembering Dean's reaction to that statement. "Except vibrators."

John chuckled too. "Sounds like you've had this conversation with Dean."

Frank nodded. "With you, too, John." He pulled into a parking space at Serene's diner. Frank turned to face his father-in-law. "You may be having a hard time with this, but I'd like you to believe me. You and I do get along. We've known each other for over five years, since you brought Dean to recover from a concussion and busted ribs at my house."

John frowned at him. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, apparently you thought I was his girlfriend. And you and Bobby were after a demon, didn't want Dean along hurt." Frank offered John a smile. "But you didn't leave for a couple of days."

John stared at him long and hard. "I must've liked you to leave him there at all," he said slowly.

"So does this mean you'll cut me a little slack?" Frank asked. "All these nasty glares are starting to chip away at my self-esteem."

John snorted, leaning back into the seat. "Somehow, I doubt that's possible."

"Here we are!" Serene said in a cheerful voice as she approached the car with a large white bag. "Four cheeseburgers with the works, a-n-d..." She paused dramatically, so Frank had a pretty good idea what was coming. "One whole peach pie."

John stared at her for a moment. "Great pie, right?"

Frank smiled at him. "The best." He waited while Serene put the food in the backseat.

"Don't you put a scratch on Dean's car now, Frank," Serene teased. "I was hoping to turn in early tonight."

"How about if I go home and use Sam's laptop?" Frank replied with a grin.

Serene shuddered. "Oh, god, don't even joke about it. See you this evening, John!" She waved before going back in to work.

"And how many people do I know around here?" John asked when they were alone again.

"A few," Frank replied evasively, backing out of his parking space. "Your sons are afraid to ask, but how much do you remember?"

John sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, a familiar gesture Frank has seen Dean perform numerous times. "I don't know," he muttered. "My brain feels like somebody took it out and played a couple of games of soccer with it before stuffing it back in." John ran a hand through his hair. "Married, huh?"

Frank nodded seriously. "I'm sure you're anxious to see your granddaughter, Liza."

He could feel John tense in the seat beside him. "Granddaughter? You don't mean... Is she Sam's?"

Frank shook his head. "Mine and Dean's."

John's heavy sigh filled the Impala. "Clearly you know, then. About Dean." He cleared his throat nervously. "Doesn't mean he can't hunt, you know. He's a damn good hunter. One of the best."

"Yeah, I've gathered," Frank replied. "But I have the feeling he's an even better dad."

"Probably," John said softly. "It wouldn't surprise me."

Frank stopped up the street from the house. He wanted to be sure he had John's attention. "Her name is Liza. You call her Little Lizzie. John, both your sons will be very relieved if you can remember this."

"You got a pen?" he asked after a pause.

Frank pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. "Sure." He handed it over.

John held it poised over his palm. "Gimme that name again. What I call my, uh, granddaughter."

"Little Lizzie," Frank repeated, watching John write it on his skin.

John gave him a searching look when he returned the pen. "I like you?"

Frank smiled. "Most of the time."

John nodded, turning to face forward again. "Yeah, I thought so." He cleared his throat as Frank put the car back in drive. "I kind of have the feeling it's almost all the time."

Frank felt a rush of relief. "Uh, don't be surprised if Dean won't let you hold her unless you're sitting down," Frank warned.

John chuckled. "Overprotective bastard, is he?"

"Yep," Frank replied cheerfully.

"Good," John said with a nod. "He should be."

Frank walked close to his father-in-law as they approached the house. John paused at the door. "I wish I could remember more," he whispered. "They're going to know."

Frank used his free hand to give John's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay. They love you. They'll deal with it," he promised. "It's going to be fine."

John's eyes bored into him. "I'm keeping my eye on you. I want to figure out what Dean sees in you."

Frank shrugged as he opened the door. "We're home!" he called out. He inclined his head, indicating John should go inside first.

"Dad!" Sam appeared in the den. "How was the ride home?"

"Uh, fine, Sam." John appeared a little nervous. "Where's your brother?"

Sam motioned to the bedroom. "Diaper duty." He grinned. "Better him than me."

Frank handed their food off to Sam. "I'll go check in," he said and Sam nodded.

In the bedroom, Frank found Dean holding Liza down on the changing table with a disgusted look on his face and Liza laughing and clapping her hands.

"Oh, awesome timing there, Pop. Get over here," Dean ordered. Frank moved closer. There was – something – splattered up Dean's sleeve and all over one hand. "Last damn time I let her have all the mushy broccoli she wants."

"Ew!" Frank took a step back.

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean demanded. "I'm out of wipes. There are some in the bathroom under the sink."

There was a noise, like an explosive fart, and Liza laughed again. Frank hurried to fetch the wipes from the bathroom.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Dean said. "We'll see how funny this is when you're sixteen and I'm telling your date all about it."

Frank chuckled as he opened the fresh box and set it within easy reach. "You wouldn't really do that, would you?"

Dean snorted as he pulled out a handful of wipes. "Dude, if that's the worst thing I do, she'll be damned lucky."

Frank waited while Dean cleaned up Liza and put her in a fresh diaper. There were now three dirty ones waiting beside the changing table and her outfit.

"Do me a favor and put some clean clothes on her. I still need to clean up," Dean said, making a face at his sleeve.

"Sure, Babe," Frank told him as he took the baby. He turned away to open one of the drawers holding Liza's clothes.

"Did Dad behave?" Dean asked in what sounded like a casual voice, but Frank knew better.

"Of course," Frank replied. "I am his favorite son-in-law, you know."

Dean sighed as he tossed the dirty clothes in a pile. "I know. But does he know that?" Dean looked right at him. "I've seen the way he glares at you."

"That's why I wanted to pick him up," Frank admitted as he pulled a fresh outfit on Liza. "I think we're good now."

Dean did not reply as he headed into the bathroom. Frank heard the water running and assumed he was washing up.

"Serene sent a whole peach pie," he called out when the water stopped.

"Awesome," Dean muttered when he returned to the bedroom, shirtless. He took out a clean shirt to put on.

"You don't have to do that," Frank told him with a grin.

Dean smiled back. "Yeah I do. Or you'll have a little problem while we're eating."

Frank grinned wider. "Little problem? I don't think you've ever called it little before."

Dean put his shirt on and chuckled. "Well, if it's a big problem, I can pretty much promise you it won't go over well with Dad."

"Uh, Dean?" Frank said teasingly. "You better put that shirt on."

Dean held out his hands for Liza after his shirt was buttoned.

"Nope," Frank told him. "You've had her all day. It's my turn. I want to see if she'll eat french fries."

Dean frowned at him. "You're kidding."

Frank shook his head. "Nah, my sister did it with both of her kids. She'd break the end off, so they could only eat on the mushy part. Lisa claims she never had a hot meal until her kids discovered fries."

Dean's face smoothed as he shrugged. "Okay. I'm game."

Frank held open his free arm. Dean leaned against him, allowing him to hug his spouse tightly. "Your dad loves it here," Frank reminded him. "This is going to work out great."

Dean pulled away with a stern face. "You are so getting a blood pressure test tonight."

Frank grinned. "I love you too, Babe."

Dean motioned impatiently to the bedroom door. "Go on, you big idiot."

But Frank could see how pleased Dean seemed when they left the room. The worry lines in his forehead were gone and the light Frank loved seeing in his eyes sparkled. He made popping sounds to amuse Liza as they headed out to join the others for lunch. It was kind of strange how he went from being a single, lonely party animal to a family man with a houseful of relations, but Frank wasn't complaining. He was living in the moment and enjoying every second of it.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

John felt so much better now than the had when he first woke up in the ICU, but he still had the nagging headache. He supposed it was related to the fact his memory was, at best, spotty. Well, his recent memory was anyway. John had no trouble remembering almost everything up to about five or so years ago, apparently about the time Dean revealed Frank. He wondered if it was coincidence.

Then John looked at Dean's daughter playing in the floor with a brightly colored toy which lit up when she batted it around. Her face typically held an expression of joy and she filled the house with laughter. No, he wouldn't want to forget her. Some memories had been filtering in, flashes of times past. Yesterday he had remembered Dean's explanation of Frank and just how awkward their initial meeting had been, but not all of it. He could not remember what convinced him it was all right to leave Dean here, or even if he had left Dean. He had only Frank's word on that.

It was odd to see both Dean and Sam being so open and casual around what were to him perfect strangers, Frank and Serene. But the boys had a secret, and John was in on it.

About an hour after both Frank and Serene left for work, Sam brought out a couple of files. "Are we ready to work now?" he asked.

Dean sighed from his spot on the floor next to Liza. "Yeah, okay. Gimme one."

Sam handed off a file before offering one to John. John flipped it open to read over their research to date. "I think this one is worth pursuing," he declared. "Can you pull up some local newspaper articles on the computer?"

"Sure." Sam brought out the laptop and set it up on the kitchen table. They spent the next three hours doing various types of research, including calling up some eyewitnesses to get first-hand accounts. It seemed both cases were valid. One was definitely a vengeful spirit and the other could be either a ghost or a poltergeist.

"Are we ready to pass these on?" Dean asked, tossing the other file on the table.

"I think so," Sam replied as he checked his watch. "I'll next day them out tomorrow. Who gets them?"

"Hang on." Dean walked over to check on the baby, who was sound asleep on a quilt in the middle of the floor surrounded by toys, before disappearing into his bedroom. Returning moments later, Dean held a thin black address book. He flipped through it until he found what he wanted. "Okay, I had a couple of guys call last week looking for a job. They might be kind of green, so I say we give them the vengeful spirit. It looks pretty routine. The other one can go to Bobby. He has some contacts near the other one who have experience."

Sam motioned for the book so he could make a copy of the address. "Got it," Sam said when he handed the book back. "Which hiding place are you using for it?"

Dean shot his brother a glare. "Mine."

John wondered if he would ever understand his sons again. When had they become so odd?

–

With a gasp, Dean sat straight up in bed. His eyes searched the room as he tried not to panic.

"It's okay," Frankie mumbled in his sleep. "I like the g-string."

Dean looked down at the warm body next to him. Now what the hell was Frankie dreaming about? With another glance around the room, Dean tried to convince himself there were no demons lurking in the corner.

"Where?" he whispered.

"Hmmmm?" Frankie muttered.

"Where are we?" Dean whispered, pressing against Frankie's side as his panic ebbed.

"Mmmm..." Frankie rolled over to wrap his arms around Dean. "Beach."

Ah, the tropical island dream. Dean smiled as he relaxed into Frankie's embrace. "One of these days," Dean promised him, "I'm taking you to a deserted beach." He stroked his fingers through Frankie's hair.

Frankie moaned again as his arms tightened. His face nuzzled the side of Dean's neck as he shifted closer, weight moving on Dean's body. "Want you, baby," Frankie mumbled near his ear.

Baby, huh? Frankie only called him 'baby' when sex was involved. Dean grinned, allowing Frankie to have his way. As Frankie, probably still half-asleep, ran those huge, soft hands all over his body, all the tension from his nightmare washed away. Dean relaxed and enjoyed the attention, his body responding in kind. He ran his hands across Frankie's shoulders and back, reveling in the way his partner's strong body melted at his touch.

Their bodies pressed tightly together. Frankie slid inside him and Dean used his arms and legs to hold Frankie close, where there was no space between them, nothing could come between them. So close, their chins rested on each other's shoulders as they thrust against each other. Sweat slicked their chests making their bodies feel slick and sensual. He felt Frankie gripping him just as tight. Heavy breathing filled the room as their passion mounted, the thrusts becoming harder and faster. Dean tightened his hold on Frankie, he was so close. A few more thrusts sent him over the edge, desperately holding in his cries of pleasure, trying to be silent.

Frankie's thrusts slowed, but their embrace remained close and strong as waves of pleasure rolled over Dean. His lover's breath was hot and heavy in his ear. Frankie thrust slowly, his chin digging into Dean's shoulder. He heard Frankie's gasp and knew what it meant. His spouse thrust again slowly as they clutched each other tightly. A shudder ran through Frankie, but it did not last.

Finally they pulled apart enough for their mouths to meet. Frankie's kiss was slow and lingering, not full of flashing hot passion, but the kind of kiss which promised future and tomorrow. Dean drank it in.

Frankie broke away first, his eyes blue even in the darkness of their bedroom. "Babe," he said slowly, his smooth voice sounding so damned good to Dean's ears, "you know our anniversary is coming up, right?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, in a couple of weeks."

Frankie grinned, his broad smile visible even in the dark. "There's something I'd like to do."

Dean chuckled at his enthusiasm. "I take it you won't be late?"

Frankie's head shook once. "No way. Never again. I couldn't be for this anyway."

"Why not?" Dean asked, suspicious. "What is it?"

"Well," Frankie said slowly, one hand rubbing Dean's side, "it involves you and me, a hotel room, and...uh...some costumes."

"Costumes? Dude, I am not dressing up like a cheerleader," Dean teased.

Frankie chuckled as he pressed close to Dean's side, his head on Dean's shoulder. "Wrong kind of costume, Babe. You know I'm not into cheerleaders."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, deserted tropical islands don't require clothes, much less costumes. So do I get a sword, too?"

Frankie's head jerked up. "You'll do it? Really?" Jesus, he sounded breathless and excited. Apparently really excited, because Dean felt Frankie's dick harden against his thigh. Well, he couldn't say no now, could he?

"Sure, Baby," Dean assured in his sexiest voice while sinking his fingers deep in Frankie's hair, "sounds like fun."

Now Frankie was kissing him with that breathless kind of passion, the kind they had when they first met. Dean made a mental note to agree to go along with Frankie's kinks more often.

–

Liza's fussing woke Serene first. She shook Sam awake.

"Huh? Wha?" he asked groggily, rubbing at one eye.

"That's the baby," she whispered urgently. "No one's taking care of her."

Sam's eyes rolled as he settled back into bed. "She's fine, sweetie. Dean'll get her." He yawned widely.

"No," Serene insisted. "I don't think they're waking up." She stared at the door. "Maybe I should go check on her."

"Uh-uh," Sam protested, grabbing her in a firm embrace and pulling her down on his chest. "Because if they're not already taking care of her, it's because they're busy."

"Busy?" Serene demanded. "Doing what?"

Sam's chuckle resonated deep in his chest, vibrating through her. One of his hands slipped under her night shirt as he rolled them so she was laying underneath, pinned by his larger and heavier body. Sweet and erotic suckling kisses started at her neck, working down slowly to her collarbone. Serene's found herself panting and wanting Sam to hurry the hell up. Sometimes he took foreplay just a little too seriously.

With her night shirt worked up to her armpits, Sam skipped over the fabric down to her breasts. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling the dark nipple occasionally. Serene tangled her fingers in his thick hair as his hand wormed its way into her pajamas bottoms. Sam touched her there, his fingers massaging the wetness he found.

Serene moaned from the stimulation, throwing her head back as Sam switched to suckle at her other breast. Oh, god...

She thrust on Sam's fingers wanting more. Needing more.

"Now," she whispered, yanking on his hair to pull his head back up. Sam obliged, his mouth kissing hers while his hands stripped everything covering her from the waist down. When she wore nothing but the night air, Sam pushed his boxers off, his tongue exploring her mouth.

When he entered her, Serene groaned in his mouth and she felt him smile against her lips. After allowing him to dominate for a while, Serene pushed and prodded until Sam rolled them to the side, where they were on more equal ground, so to speak.

Suddenly, Serene broke their passionate kissing, her hands on his chest to hold him back. His body froze, his penis deep inside her.

"Honey?" Sam asked quietly while his hands held tightly to her sides. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Serene swallowed hard, unsure how to ask him, if she should, if it would ruin everything between them. "Sam, uh..." She swallowed again. "I, uh, wanted to know..."

Her breath caught in her chest and she was deathly afraid she wouldn't be able to ask, even though she couldn't be sure it wasn't the worst idea in the whole damn world.

"What, Sweetie?" he asked and sounded afraid. Maybe he knew what a bad idea this was.

Serene forced herself to look him in the eye as she screwed up her courage. "Do-you-want-to-get-married?" she said all at once in a rush, before her brief courage could leave her.

Sam stared at her, his eyes bugging out in the dim light cast through the sheers on the bedroom window. "Y-you're asking me?"

Oh god, did his voice just squeak?

Serene swallowed hard again, her mouth too dry to speak. She shrugged, wondering if she could pass it off to talking in her sleep or something.

Then Sam was all motion as he surged forward, grasping her tight and kissing her fervently. He rolled Serene on her back to thrust hard and swift inside her. With each thrust he whispered in her ear. It took a moment for the shock of his reaction to wear off before she could understand what Sam was saying.

"Yes. Yes. Oh, god, yes!"

Yes! Serene tightened her legs around his waist and pulled him harder into her, cementing their agreement with frenzied passion. She kissed him back as hard as he kissed her as joy and relief flowed through her entire body. Sam said yes! He wanted her! He wanted to be with her – always.

Sam came first, thrusting hard and with abandon. When he pulled out, he ran a hand down her sweaty abdomen and asked, "Did you?"

Serene shook her head. "But it's okay..." she started to say, but Sam's head was already heading between her legs.

Oh, thank you, god...

Serene closed her eyes as Sam's rough, callused hands gently pressed her thighs further open. She reached out to tangle her hands in his hair again as his head dipped down to lick and suck and basically drive her fucking insane. When she was close, Serene gripped his hair tighter, pulling him harder against her. His tongue thrust inside her harder. When her orgasm started, Sam slowed down to suck on her nub and caress her insides with his tongue. He made her come and come and come, until she thought she might lose her mind. She couldn't think or speak or do anything but press into his mouth and make embarrassing moans. She was still feeling the amazing orgasms when Sam crawled back over her and pressed his thick shaft inside her again.

Now Serene cried out at the overstimulation, her head thrown back and body splayed out. Sam pumped in and out of her slowly while she whimpered and her hips thrust up. Finally he got the message and met her thrust for thrust.

"Won't last long," he breathed into her ear.

The message took a moment to drift down through the physical sensations. She nodded that she understood and grabbed his ass with both hands. Serene directed his thrusts now, wanting in him deep when he came. He grew thicker inside her and she might have screamed, but Sam's mouth was on her's stifling any noise she wanted to make. She yanked him inside her again and their bodies bucked as one, a shared, intense orgasm.

As they came down from their sexual high, slick sweaty bodies still pressed together, they kissed slowly. Serene could taste herself in his mouth and it wasn't as disgusting as he had led her to believe. Actually, she kind of liked it.

Sam dropped down on the bed beside her, panting heavily. He wormed an arm underneath her shoulders to roll her close. He kissed her on the forehead before allowing his head to plop soundly on his pillow.

"Wow," he breathed.

"Yeah," Serene agreed.

The fingertips of one of his hands trailed through the slick sweat on her chest before brushing her hair from her face.

"I love your hair like this," he told her. Sam's palm rested against her cheek. "And I love you."

Serene had to blink away the tears threatening. "Love you," she managed to whisper.

His smile was so sweet the tears spilled over.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her close. His chin rested on top of her head. "You're amazing."

Serene relaxed against Sam, allowing herself to feel happy, really happy. She was amazingly, blissfully happy. As her eyes drifted closed, Serene realized she couldn't hear Liza fussing any more either.

Serene woke to gentle kisses on her forehead, nose and cheeks. She opened her eyes to find Sam running his fingers through her hair as he pulled back. "Morning, Sweetie," he said. "You meant it, right?"

She frowned a little at him. What was he talking about?

"Getting married," Sam said a little anxiously. "You do remember that?" His eyes widened enough to make her chuckle at him.

"I meant it," she replied softly. "But only if you want to."

A broad smile lit his face. "In that case..." Sam's hand dove under his pillow to pull out a small black felt box. The kind rings came in.

Serene pushed up to a sit. "What is that?"

With one hand Sam flipped it open. A simple engagement ring, with a modest diamond, met her gaze. Serene's mouth dropped open. "B-but...how?"

Sam chuckled as he scooted closer and took the ring out. "I borrowed a little money from Dean and Frank a couple of weeks ago." He shrugged as he slipped it on her finger. "I just couldn't figure out how to ask you." Now her head was cradled in his hands. "I wished I'd known you were thinking the same thing."

Serene grinned at him as she admired the ring on her hand. "Well, if I'd kept waiting on you, I'd probably be using a walker by the time you got around to asking."

Sam pulled her face close and kissed her. "Probably," he murmured against her lips as he laughed lightly. She laughed with him.

Serene gasped as she spun around to check the bedside clock. "Shit! I'm running late!"

Sam's hand grabbed her arm. "Call in sick," he told her.

"Are you kidding?" Serene demanded. She held up the hand with her new ring on it. "I'm planning on flashing this baby in everybody's face today!" She grinned broadly, her excitement welling up and overpowering.

Sam grinned back at her. "Okay, Sweetie." He pulled her back for quick kiss. "I'm picking you up for lunch."

"You better." She took her time kissing him. "I need to go, Sammy," she breathed out when they broke apart.

"Go."

–

John sipped Frank's freaking amazing coffee at the kitchen table as he listened to the sounds of the house waking up. Usually the first sounds came from Dean and Frank's room, no doubt looking after the baby. It seemed Sam and Serene were running a little late today, if he wasn't mistaken she had the early shift today. As he wondered if they were sleeping off the after-effects from last night, damn kids were right next door and worse than some newlyweds, Serene blew out of the bedroom in her waitress uniform which was right out of the fifties.

A bright smile lit her face as she rushed to him. One hand dangled in front of his face over the table. He set his coffee down to admire the tasteful engagement ring, which Sam had no doubt picked out.

Serene giggled like a young schoolgirl when he looked up at her, her eyes wide and bright and filled with happiness.

"Congratulations," John told her. He grasped her hand to tug her closer as he stood. She leaned over the table to hug him, her arms squeezing his shoulders. When John pulled away, he looked her in the eye. "You are happy about this, right?"

Serene squealed and jumped up to spin around in the air.

"I'll, uh, take that as a yes," he said with a chuckle as he sat back down.

"Is there enough for me?" she asking, pointing at the coffee pot. "I'm running really late."

John nodded as he gestured with a sweeping hand at the coffee pot. "Good thing Dean started using the timer, or you'd be out of luck, young lady."

Serene poured her coffee into a travel mug, something also in plentiful supply around here. He watched her admire the ring again before she grabbed her mug to head for the door.

"I'm gone!" she called out, pausing in the center of the den.

Their bedroom door flew open, Sam in jeans and a shirt rushing out to sweep her off the floor. He kissed her continuously as he carried to the front door.

"Bye," Sam said in a soft voice as he set his fiancé on her feet.

"Bye," she replied in the same soft, breathless voice.

John had to chuckle over how much In Love they were, like a couple of love-struck hormonal teenagers. Sam closed the door to turn sheepishly to face the kitchen. He waved in the direction of the door.

"Did she tell you?" he asked as he approached the table.

John grinned. "Oh, yeah. I have a feeling by lunch the whole damn town's gonna know."

Sam nodded as he pulled out a chair. "I think that's the idea," he admitted as his cheeks flushed pink.

"What is?" another voice demanded. Dean and Frank stroke toward them, a sleepy Liza cuddled against Frank's chest. She looked at him, but instead of his usual smile she grabbed her Pop's shirt with one small fist.

John jerked a thumb at Sam. "He finally did it."

Dean beamed at them. "Yeah? About damn time, dude. You've had that ring for what? A week?"

Sam groaned as he slouched in his chair. "More like two."

Dean poured some coffee into a travel mug. He traded it to Frank for Liza. "Go on," Dean said, "we need some bacon."

Frankie chuckled as he planted a parting kiss on Dean's cheek. "Not with my arteries. I expect details later." He kissed Dean again and then sleepy Liza before leaving.

Dean grabbed a couple of jars of mushy baby food and a small spoon before sitting at the table. "So?" Dean demanded as he opened the jars. "Spill. How'd you ask her?"

John noticed more color creep into Sam's face. "No big deal," he said softly.

Dean's eyes jumped from scooping up a spoonful of orange stuff to Sam. "No big deal?" he demanded. "Sam. You proposed. It's a big deal."

Sam slid further down in his chair, his cheeks grower redder by the moment. Dean gave John questioning glance, and that's when it hit him. John barked out a short laugh as he pointed a finger at his youngest.

"She asked you, didn't she?" John accused, enjoying himself immensely. It sounded like something Serene would do, especially if Sam was taking too damn long.

Sam shrugged, but the hue of his face deepened.

Dean chuckled as he spooned some food into Liza's open mouth. "Sounds like her. Guess you waited too long there, Sammy."

Sam sighed loudly. "She told me she'd need a walker by the time I got around to it."

John's laughter merged with Dean's. Even Liza got in on the act, waking up enough to laugh loudly and clap her hands. She banged her open palms on the table as attention turned to her.

"Yeah, we know you're cute," Dean told her as he held up a spoon filled with yellow goop. He grinned as her mouth opened wide and her eyes fixed on the food.

"So how'd you do it?" Sam demanded. John recognized his younger son's defensive voice, he'd been on the receiving end of it enough.

"Do what?" Dean asked lightly, as if he didn't know. John knew this defense mechanism as well. He considered going outside to drink the rest of his cooling coffee in peace, but decided against it. It surprised him, more than a little, but he wanted to hear the answer. And if anybody could get the answer, it would be Sam.

"Ask Frank," Sam stated firmly. "You did ask him, right? Not the other way around?" Sam's firm look meant he was getting an answer, even if it took all day.

Dean's gaze fixed on Liza. He shrugged as he shoveled more food into the hungry kid. She laughed again and clapped, looking at John and Sam. John clapped back at her, just to watch the delighted expression on her face.

"Dad, this is messy enough," Dean fussed at him but John heard no anger in his son's voice, so he kept laughing and clapping at his granddaughter.

"So he asked you," Sam kept harping on the subject, as John knew he would.

"Kind of," Dean hedged. "Look Sam, little busy here. Can Liza have her breakfast before you rag on me all day?"

So Sam shut up while Dean fed Liza and John made a pest of himself egging his granddaughter's obnoxious almost-a-toddler behavior on. When Sam wasn't looking, Dean threw him a wink, as if to say thanks for the delay. John had two more cups of coffee before Liza was fed, cleaned up and in fresh clothes. She crawled around the kitchen, trying to get into everything. Dean stepped over her to try and pour a cup of coffee. The pot was empty. With a frown, he set a fresh pot perking. John tried to watch the order of the buttons Dean pushed, but the frigging thing was way too complicated. He suspected Dean could talk to the shuttle on it if he wanted.

"Can't Frank bring home a normal coffee maker?" John asked.

Dean grinned as he leaned on the counter. "But then you'd drink all of Frankie's coffee."

"Probably," John admitted.

Dean waited until there was a cupful of coffee in the pot. He poured it into a mug before locating Liza again, then returning to the table.

"Now?" Sam demanded, leaning forward on the table with his forearms.

Dean sighed and rolled his head. "Yeah, okay, now."

"So who asked who?" Sam demanded.

Dean drummed his fingers on the table for a moment before answering. "He asked me, but I told him to."

Sam's face creased in confusion. "And how, exactly, does that work?"

"This is kind of personal," Dean pointed out.

"Dude!" Sam snapped. "You give me advice on sex, graphic advice, and this is too personal?"

John held up a hand. "What advice?" he asked. At the twin looks of disbelief from his sons, he chose to go back to the original topic. "I mean, come on, Dean. We're family here."

Dean took a long sip of his coffee. "Okay, fine. It was right after Dad left." His gaze jumped to John. "The first time you met Frankie."

John shrugged. "I remember your concussion and meeting Frank, but not much else."

Dean's eyebrows lifted. "You don't remember the drive in the park?"

John shook his head. Liza managed to partially open one of the cabinet doors. Thanks to the child-proofing he and Dean had installed, the door only opened an inch. With a wide grin, she realized she could bang it closed. Oh goody, new toy.

"What drive?" John asked his oldest.

Bang-bang-bang.

"The one where you told me some rings had meaning," Dean said evenly.

Bang!

John shook his head again and motioned for Dean to continue.

Bang-bang. Bang! Bang-bang.

"What about rings with meaning?" Sam asked.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Dad told me when a ring had meaning, you shouldn't wear it unless you mean it." Dean shrugged.

Bang! Bang-bang!

"And?" John asked in unison with Sam.

Dean twisted the silver ring on his thumb, not the gold one on his ring finger. "And after you and Bobby left, I handed this ring over to Frankie." A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I told him to ask me to wear it. All the time."

"What'd he say?" Sam asked.

The hint of a smile became a real smile. "He said he wanted us to be exclusive. All the time." Dean held up his hand. "I haven't taken it off since."

The smile faded. "You hear that?" Dean demanded as he looked around.

John glanced over at Sam, both of them listening. "No," they replied together.

"Me either." Dean jumped to his feet, eyes scouring the floor. "Where's the rugrat?"

The sound of a toilet flushing and raucous young laughter reached their ears.

"Oh, shit!" Dean muttered as he took off for the bathroom at a dead run.

"So," John turned to his youngest, "have you two discussed kids yet?" He grinned broadly. Oh, it felt so good to watch his kids going through some of the same stuff he had. This was freaking awesome. He never wanted to move out.


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Dean lined up his next shot, feeling both relieved and anxious. Once he made the shot, and it showed just how out of practice he was, Dad bumped his shoulder.

"Relax, son," Dad said with an easy smile. "Lisa has two kids of her own, I'm sure she's taking good care of Liza. Besides, it's high time you had a day out." Dad pointed out a tricky shot. "Now go try that one."

With a sigh, Dean rounded the table to attempt the shot Dad wanted. Sam grinned and shrugged at him over a mug of beer. Just as he drew back his arm, Dad's cell went off. Dean shot his father an annoyed glare. Dad glared back as he pulled out his cell.

"Yeah?" Dad nodded at the far wall. "We're shootin' pool. Find Main street and drive up and down until you spot The Bar. That's where we are." Dean lowered his cue to listen. "Good, see you soon."

Dad stuffed his cell back in his pocket. "Dean? You taking a shot or what?"

"Who was that?" Sam demanded before Dean had the chance.

A broad smile creased Dad's face. "You'll see in about ten minutes." He winked at Dean.

Dean exchanged a confused glance with his brother. Sam shrugged and nodded at the pool table. With a deep breath, Dean lifted his pool cue. He tried the next shot, but Dean hadn't shot any pool in over a year. He missed the bank shot by a freaking mile. Damn, how could he allow himself to get so rusty?

"Relax, Dean," Dad chided as he bent over the table. "You're too tense."

Dean sidled up alongside his brother. "I'm tense," he muttered as he reached for his beer.

"Too tense," Sam corrected. Dean shot him a glare, to which Sam grinned.

"I wonder who's coming?" Sam said, glancing at the door. "Well I'll be damned."

"Huh?" Dean spun around to see what had Sam's attention.

A muscular man with a shaven head, a thick scar on one cheek, and quick penetrating eyes walked in like he owned the place. He wore faded jeans, and a nondescript shirt under a black leather jacket with heavy hiking boots.

"No way," Dean breathed as his heart rate picked up and his eyes widened. Slowly his beer sunk back down to the table.

"Caleb!" Dad shouted across the bar as he waved. "Over here!"

The muscular man's head snapped to focus on Dad's voice. With a short wave, he headed their way.

Quickly Dean glanced down at himself. "Sam," he hissed as he tugged at his shirt, "this doesn't make me look fat, does it?"

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes before totally ignoring his question and moving towards Caleb, who was very nearly at their pool table. Hastily Dean sucked in his gut before following his brother. It wasn't his fault he didn't have his figure totally back yet! That extra pocket of flab on his hips, he never had that before Liza, and it hadn't gone away. Lisa kept telling him that it took nine months to put on all the weight, to give it nine months to come off. Right now, with Caleb nearly on top of them, Dean figured she was full of crap. Shit!

Caleb gave Dad a bear hug first, then Sam an energetic greeting as well. Nervous now, Dean waited for his turn. Caleb's face lit up and a broad grin spread.

"Dean!" he shouted, arms open. "Get over here!"

Dean stepped into the waiting embrace. Normally he tried to prolong it, but this time he stepped away after a couple of good slaps on the back. Caleb gave him a quizzical look when he pulled away, but Dean chose to ignore it. After all, it really wouldn't do to be seen in The Bar in a prolonged hug with some guy from out of town. The rumor mill was going to have a heyday as it was.

"Dad didn't say you were coming!" Dean said with a bright grin. He turned to shout toward the bar. "Harry! Four beers!" Harry waved an acknowledgement.

"Harry?" Caleb asked as he gave Dean a shove towards the table. "Getting comfortable, are you, kid?"

The grin covering his face felt unrealistic, and yet Dean couldn't get rid of it. Wow. Caleb was here. What was he doing here?

"What are you doing here, Caleb?" Sam asked from over Caleb's shoulder.

"Huh?" Caleb spun, knocking into Sam's beer and spilling part of it on his arm and Sam's shirt. "Oh, shit, Sam! I'm sorry!"

Sam chuckled as he shook out his shirt. "No problem. It'll dry. Why don't you sit down before Harry brings our beers?"

Caleb chuckled with Sam as he pulled up a chair, joining them at the small round table.

"Are we done playing pool?" Dad asked, holding out a hand for Dean's cue. Dean grabbed it from where it had been resting against the wall to hand over.

While Dad restored the pool table for the next people to play, Dean settled in to hear what Caleb had been up to for the past few years.

"Where've you been, Caleb?" Dean asked. "Dude, I don't think I've seen you since before Sam went to college."

Caleb's eyes widened as he focused on Sam. "You went to college, Sam?"

"Stop it," Sam snapped, his face souring. "You know damn well I did."

Dean shot his brother a questioning look. Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Caleb called me after a month and told me to get my ass back home," Sam explained. "He never would tell me how he found out."

Dean scrutinized Caleb's and Dad's expressions. "Jim," he guessed. "And I have a feeling he's the reason you're here now?"

Caleb's grin broadened. "Damn, Dean, I hear you got married and didn't bother inviting me to the wedding? I gotta figure she's a real looker and you were afraid of competition."

Dean chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe if you bothered to keep in touch, you'd know these things."

"Oh!" Caleb pressed a hand over his heart. "Cut me to the quick, why don't you?" He gave Dean a shove in the shoulder. "I'm here now. So spill. What have you been up to since geek-boy went to college?"

Dean exchanged a significant look with Sam. "And what have you been up to?" he demanded of Caleb.

Caleb grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "What haven't I been up to?"

Sam groaned, his head dropping. "Oh, man..." he breathed.

Caleb laughed, reaching across the table to shake Sam by the shoulder. "What's wrong, Sam? Tired of hearing your brother's stories too? Or doesn't he have any now that he's got a ring through his nose?"

Dean chuckled. Caleb was almost as good looking now as he was at twenty, when Dad first brought him around to help out in Dean's training.

"So tell me," Caleb pressed, "what's she like? I never thought I'd see the day Dean Winchester actually settled down and got married."

"Me either," Sam chimed in. Then a broad smile creased Sam's face. "Why don't you tell Caleb about Frankie, Dean?"

"Frankie, huh?" Caleb returned Sam's smile. "I'll bet she's a looker, huh? Let me guess, slender blond? No, wait, a hot red-head!"

Dean grinned. "Brunette. And there's nothing small about Frankie."

Sam choked on his beer and Dad shot him a hard look. Dean looked back defiantly at Dad. "Nothing small," he repeated, enjoying Dad's discomfort immensely.

"Brunette?" Caleb took a long swig of beer. "Yeah, okay, I can see that. Eyes?"

"Blue. Really blue," he said, picturing those startling and amazing eyes. "Unbelievably blue."

"Dude."

There was a shove to his arm. Dean dragged his eyes back to the table. "Huh?"

Caleb laughed at him again. "Man, you got it bad, doncha?"

"Nope," Dean declared sternly. "I've got it really good. Speaking of which, how about I have Frankie meet us here after work?"

He pulled his cell out and stood up. Frankie's phone rang a couple of times before that smooth deep voice answered. "Dean?"

"Hey, Baby," he said smoothly as Caleb grinned at him. "We're at The Bar having a guys day out. Want to meet us here?"

"Sure, Babe," Frankie replied. "Do you mind if I go home and change first?"

"That's fine," Dean replied as he made his way outside, where he could hear better. "Why don't you wear the blue plaid?"

"The blue plaid?" Frankie replied slowly. "Why? What's going on?"

Dean grinned to himself. "There's someone here I want you to meet." He imagined the look on Caleb's face at the first good look of Frankie. Yeah, this was going to be good! Especially if he could get Caleb started on one of their old games before Frankie arrived.

"Who?" Frankie asked. "Hey, is Liza there too?"

"Nah, she's at your sister's house," Dean explained. "We watched her kids yesterday, so she insisted on taking Liza for the entire afternoon. I thought Dad was going to kiss her for it." He shouldered his way through the front door. The sunshine was nearly blinding after spending a couple of hours inside the cool, dim interior of The Bar.

Frankie laughed. "So who are you showing me off to? You are planning on showing me off, right?"

Dean's grin broadened. "Better believe it. An old friend of the family. We've known him since before I could drive. Uh, legally."

"Him?" Frankie asked. "Do I get a name or what?"

"Caleb," Dean replied, wondering if he had ever mentioned his hunting mentor before.

"Well, that could get confusing," Frankie replied, referring to the fact Lisa's husband was also named Caleb. Maybe Dean hadn't mentioned him before. "All right. It's kind of slow, so maybe I can take off in a few minutes, be there within half an hour?"

"Awesome," Dean said enthusiastically. "You are gonna wear the blue plaid, right?"

Frankie laughed at him. "Whatever you want, Babe. See you soon."

"Bye, Baby," Dean replied as he hung up.

"Baby?" Caleb's voice so close behind him was startling. Dean spun around. "Sounds serious. Then again, if you really are married, I hope it's serious."

Dean held up his left hand with both rings on it. "Really married. Really serious." He frowned at Caleb. "What are you doing out here? Spying?"

Caleb smiled and shook his head. "Just came out for a smoke." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Keep me company?"

Dean shrugged and sat down on one of the park benches out front. "You should quit, you know," he said. "Even without cancer, smoking impairs your ability to breathe right."

Caleb raised an eyebrow at that. "Impairs? Sounds like Sam finally convinced you to quit."

Dean shrugged and leaned back. "He and Dad ganged up on me his senior year." He glanced over at his old friend. "Something else you'd know if you ever bothered to call."

Caleb lit his cigarette and took a long drag before speaking again. "Yeah, about that." He sighed before taking another long drag. "I screwed up." His dark eyes flicked over Dean's face briefly before focusing on the glowing end of his cancer stick.

Dean narrowed his gaze on Caleb. "How?" he demanded.

"You, uh, remember the last time I saw you?" Caleb asked, shifting on the hard bench seat.

Dean sighed heavily. He had been hoping, futilely, that this wouldn't come up. "Considering it was one of my most embarrassing moments, yeah, I remember. And I'd rather not relive it, if you don't mind."

"Nah, kid, you don't understand," Caleb began, but Dean hurried to cut him off.

"Look, I'm sorry I put you in that position, okay?" Dean took a deep breath before continuing. "It was just that we seemed to have so much in common, and I thought you might feel the same way, and-"

Caleb gave him a shove in the arm. "Shut up," he growled. "Now let me finish." He took another slow drag and Dean noticed his hand was shaking. "I, uh..." Caleb swallowed hard. "The only reason I said no was because your dad scared me."

Dean stared at him for a long moment. "What?"

Caleb chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Dude, after the way he went off about the altar boy at Jim's church, and I heard about that one for years by the way, thanks a lot."

Dean grinned. "He was hot."

"And only two years older than you," Caleb pointed out. "Me? Six years older. John wouldn't have bothered with rock salt, he would've just killed me." He met Dean's gaze. "Not only was I really flattered, but I wanted to say yes. Only I chickened out." He sighed again as he lifted the cigarette to his lips to take another drag. "One of my big regrets, and I never knew how to tell you."

"So you never talked to me again?" Dean demanded.

"Yeah, chickenshit, I know," Caleb replied, his head dropping as he stubbed out his cigarette. "I started to call you I don't know how many times, but I didn't know what to say."

Dean groaned as he slumped down on the bench. "I would've been perfectly happy to pretend it never happened."

"Deal," Caleb said instantly. He held out a hand. Dean rolled his eyes, but he shook it. "Now tell me all about this hot brunette Frankie."

Dean grinned as he shook his head. "So have you noticed anything strange about this town?"

"Strange?" Caleb frowned at him. "As in our kind of strange?"

"Nope. I'm talking Twilight Zone strange," Dean explained as he stood. "When we go back inside, I want you to really look at the people. Notice who is with who, and how nobody minds."

Caleb's brow furrowed. "Do you mean what I think you mean?"

Dean grinned again. "It's like your best fantasy, Caleb. Come on and I'll prove it."

Caleb stood slowly, hesitantly meeting his eyes. "Friends?" he asked weakly.

Dean gave him a shove in the shoulder. "Never stopped."

He turned away to walk back inside but an arm came around and Caleb was hugging him from behind. "I'm sorry," he whispered in Dean's ear. "I missed hanging out with you."

Dean patted the arm resting across his chest. "Yeah, well, if anyone catches you hugging me I'll have to kick your ass."

Caleb released him with a chuckle. "Frankie's jealous, huh?"

Dean opened the front door with a grin. "It's a small town and these people love their gossip," he explained. "And I really don't want another chewing out by my mother-in-law."

Caleb returned his smile. "Now that sounds like a good story."

"It is," Dean confirmed, jerking his head inside. "Come on, before Dad comes looking for us. With a shotgun."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Dude, I haven't pissed John off in years."

"Then you're overdue," Dean reasoned. He made sure to walk close to Caleb as they made their way through the bar, pointing out the more attractive patrons, male and female. Caleb grunted appreciatively at several. Man, it had been a long time since he had been able to ogle both men and women with the same person. Frankie really didn't get it, poor guy. Sometimes he really needed someone truly bi to hang out with. Frankie tried, but it wasn't the same. Having both Frankie and Sam around helped though.

Back at the table, Dean made sure Caleb sat next to him on one side and Sam on the other. He kept directing Caleb's attention to the more attractive people around them, with Caleb flashing fingers on one hand, their one-to-five scale.

Dad caught on after ten or fifteen minutes, glaring at Caleb holding up four fingers for the Daisy Duke shorts.

"Dude," Dad rumbled in a low voice, "she's at least a five."

Caleb chuckled as Sam's head snapped back and forth between them. "What? Who?"

Dean nodded at Dad's five. "Sheri Jones," he whispered.

Sam glanced over quickly, his gaze resting on her highly exposed posterior. "What's the scale?"

"One to five," Dean replied.

"She's a six," Sam said. Then he turned to glare at Dean. "And if you tell Serene I said that, I'll deny it."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, your secret is safe with me, little brother." He tilted his head at Caleb. "Now this joker is another matter."

"I had no idea Sam was an ass-man," Caleb said with a grin. "I would have figured him for more of above the neck." He an upsweeping motion with one hand.

Sam grunted as he leaned back in his seat. "I don't have to stay here, you know."

Dean gave him a playful kick under the table. When Sam gave him a questioning glance, Dean waited until Caleb was distracted by a perky blond walking by.

"Watch Caleb's reaction to Frank," he whispered in Sam's ear. "You're going to learn something."

Sam's brow furrowed, but he nodded slowly, still not drawing attention from either Caleb or Dad. Confident that this was going to be freaking awesome, Dean settled in to wait. He rated the guys throwing darts as a two and a three, where Caleb gave them both threes and Dad rolled his eyes. Sam still hadn't caught on, obviously looking for girls over there and not finding any.

Dean heard the greetings before he turned to spot Frankie walking in. He nudged Caleb hard in the ribs, directing the older man's attention. Caleb let out a low whistle, his eyes roving appreciatively over Frankie who stood waiting by the bar. When Harry passed over two full mugs of beer, Caleb cleared his throat.

"Now that's a six if I ever saw one," he whispered to Dean.

"Damn straight," Dean replied, glancing over at his little brother. Sam stared openly at Caleb, who was clearly staring at Frankie. Yeah, this was freaking awesome!

"Shit," Caleb hissed. "He's heading our way!" He turned away quickly to face Dad. "And you did what with the car?" he asked in a carrying voice.

Dad leaned back in his chair giving Caleb a dirty look. "Hey, Frank!" he called out.

"Hey, John. Sam." Frankie set the second beer down in front of Dean. Dean made sure to watch Caleb's reaction as Frankie gave him a peck on the cheek before dragging over another chair. Caleb's mouth literally dropped open. Frank extended a hand. "You must be Caleb. Frank Warren. Nice to meet you."

Caleb's hand lifted hesitantly to shake Frankie's. "Nice to meet you," he replied weakly.

Caleb's head turned to give Dean a withering glare. "You might have mentioned something," he snapped.

Dean grinned broadly. "And ruin the fun? Are you kidding?"

Dad chuckled. "At least he didn't have a concussion," he pointed out. "Now that wasn't fun."

"No," Frankie chimed in, "it wasn't." Then Frankie's hand, cool from carrying Dean's beer, slid slowly from his neck down his back where he rubbed a few circles. "I take it Caleb might fit in here?"

Dean leaned in to his spouse's touch. "Maybe," he replied, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Okay, I'm a little lost," Sam said. Then his attention flitted back to the dart boards before landing back on Caleb. "Wait," he said slowly. "Really?"

Caleb smiled and shrugged. "Why do you think Dean and I always got along so well?"

Sam's head rolled back before snapping forward again, this time focused on Dad. "And you knew!"

"Duh, Sam," Dad snapped back. "It was kind of obvious. Any time these two were together they were ranking all the men and women who walked by. It bordered on embarrassing."

"Rank?" Frankie asked, sounding interested. "Babe, what'd I score?"

Dean leaned back a little to see Frankie's face. "Six."

Frankie's face dropped in disappointment. "Really?"

"One to five scale, Frank," Sam informed him.

Frankie's beaming grin spread. "Oh, well, that's all right then."


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53 **_- Apologies for the delay! I made this chapter a little longer than usual to attempt to make up for it. Next chapter should be posting fairly soon, and then we'll be seeing a little more action. (And I mean action, not gutter-time. No worries, there's a nice, long, gutter-time chapter to make up for it later!)_

Dean noticed Frankie checking the time. "Did you all drive over together?" Frankie asked softly. Dad and Sam were listening to another one of Caleb's stories. This one involved a pool game and a biker gang.

"Dad, Sam and I did. Caleb met us here. Why?" Dean asked.

"Well, I was just thinking, if Caleb wants to join us for dinner, he can follow the rest of you. I'll head over to my sister's house and either meet you at home or wherever we're going," Frankie explained.

"What do you want to do?" Dean asked, focusing on Frankie. "Home or out?"

Frankie shrugged. "How about out? I'd rather not worry about cleaning up. We could pick up her highness after dinner? I'm sure Lisa wouldn't mind."

Dean shook his head. "She's been over there all afternoon."

Frankie grinned at him. "Turning into a softy, Dean."

Dean leaned into Frankie's shoulder. "Your fault," he growled.

"Promise?" Frankie asked with a grin.

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean demanded, Frankie's grin demanding he smile back. "Okay, get going. We'll meet you at the Italian place."

"Get going?" Caleb chose that second to tune in to their conversation. "Where are you going?"

"He has an errand to run. Frankie'll meet us at the restaurant." Dean glanced across the table. "You comin', Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "Drop me off at the diner."

"Diner?" Caleb asked. "Why?"

"That's where Serene works," Dean told him. "She has to work the late shift tonight so Sam's going to keep her company."

"Oh, yeah." Caleb grinned again. "Sam's gonna take the big plunge, huh? I can't wait to meet her." His eyebrows did a little jig over his eyes. "Or do I have to wait until she's no longer available?"

Sam shook his head as he lifted his beer glass. "Dude, I dare you to hit on Serene."

"Yeah?" Caleb's back straightened. "A challenge, huh?"

Dean held up a hand. "I want in on this. Five bucks says Caleb goes down in flames."

"I got five that says she buries him," Dad threw in. "You know, if he's lucky."

"I'm going with a slap across the face," Sam said.

"Frankie?" Dean turned to see if he wanted in on this.

Frankie shook his head with a chuckle. "Uh, I'm going on that errand. See you all there. Sam, I'm sure I'll see you and Serene at the house." He gave Dean's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he stood. "Italian, right?"

"Right," Dean replied with a nod. Frankie planted a kiss on his forehead before leaving.

Dean beamed at Caleb as he reached for what was left of his beer. "Well?" he demanded.

Caleb shook his head and chuckled, setting an empty glass on the table. "Yeah, you did good, kid. That what you wanted to hear?"

"Nope." Dean slammed the rest of his beer. His beer glass landed heavily on the wood. "I want you to admit he's awesome."

Dad cleared his throat and stood. "Uh, maybe we should get going, if we want a good table?"

"Right." Sam jumped up. "You have to drop me off first."

Dean shrugged as he and Caleb stood up. "Then let's go. Caleb, you better follow us. It's a small town, but I know how easy it is for you to get lost. Your phone is charged, right?"

Caleb groaned as he followed them through the bar. "Man, I take one wrong turn, ten years ago, and nobody lets me forget it. Can't anyone see I've grown? Matured?"

Dad scoffed loudly. "Matured? Dude, you need a dictionary as well as a compass."

Dean chuckled as he glanced back to watched Caleb's indignation. Awesome. Yeah, he had missed hanging out with Caleb, moments like this. Ah, well, that was in the past. Maybe Caleb would come around more now that he was kind of anchored here. Yeah, another plus to being married.

Dean made a production out of making sure Caleb was right behind them, driving five to ten under the speed limit and stopping at yellow lights. He figured Caleb would be plenty aggravated by the time they arrived at the restaurant. Sam looked relieved to be going in the diner, but his kid brother was probably just happy to be seeing Serene.

Sam paused to lean in the passenger window. "Twenty bucks says Caleb's going to need a medical illustration."

"No bet," Dean replied, a little surprised Dad said it at the same time. "Later, Sam. Tell Serene we said hi."

Sam waved them off as he headed into the diner. Confident Sam was fine, Dean pulled slowly up to the street. He waved at Caleb before waiting for there to be no cars coming so he could pull out without the slightest chance of losing Caleb.

"He's right, you know," Dad said when they stopped for a traffic light. "You are planning to explain Liza, aren't you?"

Dean grinned. "Actually, I'm looking forward to seeing what he comes up with. So does he get the extra bed in your room, or will he be staying in the motel?"

Dad shook his head. "I don't think that's my call," he said slowly. "I'm gonna leave that one up to Frank."

"Frank?" Dean glanced over to see if his dad was serious. "What's Frankie got to do with whether or not you have a roomie?"

"Not just any roomie," Dad said with a grunt. "Don't think for a second I never noticed."

Oh, shit!

"Noticed what?" Dean asked carefully, schooling his face into his most innocent expression.

Dad glared. "Son, you've had a crush on Caleb since you were at least sixteen." He cleared his throat as he glanced out the window. "Well, maybe that's just when I noticed, because I was having to chase off boys."

Dean shrugged before pulling off the road into the restaurant parking area. "It wasn't like I wanted you to catch them, Dad."

He got a slap to the shoulder. "And I didn't want you hiding them." Dad sighed. "Look, I know I probably screwed up more than one thing in your childhood, hell, you never really had a childhood, but I never wanted you to feel like you had to hide things from me."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at his father as he shifted into park. "Really? Then why did you push dating girls so hard?"

Dad's head turned to glare at him again. "Because I didn't want a pregnant teenager." He shook a finger at Dean. "See how right I was about that?"

Dean grinned in reply. "You're always right, Dad."

Dad rolled his eyes as he reached for the door handle. "Yeah, right," he grunted.

Dean stood up out of the car, looking forward to Frankie and Liza's arrival. He hadn't seen his girl for half the day! Dad was staring at him over the car. "What?"

"Thanks," Dad said simply.

Confused, Dean stared back but Dad wasn't offering more. "For?" he prompted.

Dad shook his head, slamming the car door closed. "Being you. Come on, I want a good table."

"Hey!" Caleb jumped out of his car. "Isn't there a fancy place in this town?"

"All the restaurants are family friendly," Dean replied. "Besides, what makes you think you rate fancy?"

"Oh!" Caleb pressed a hand to his chest. "Walking wounded here!"

Dad chuckled, altering his path to walk by and give Caleb a shove. "Behave," he warned. "People know us around here."

"Yeah? Like who?" Caleb asked. "Aren't you mister low-profile?" he teased.

"Not here," Dad said with a sigh. He jerked a thumb at Dean. "Blame him. Frank is the most popular person in town. No exaggeration."

"Yeah?" Caleb threw Dean a small grin. "How'd that happen?"

Dean beamed back. "He picked me up after I took him for two c-notes at pool."

Dad gave him a suspicious look. "Are you sure he didn't let you take him?"

"Huh?" Dean asked, startled as they passed through the front doors into the cool interior of the restaurant. "What makes you say that?"

Dad shrugged, holding up four fingers at the host.

"And a half?" the host asked. Dean nodded in response.

"Half?" Caleb asked. "Frankie doesn't take up that much space, does he?"

Dean chuckled at his old friend. "Dude, you will never know."

"Why not?" Caleb demanded. "Dean, you used to tell me everything."

"Doubt it," Dad muttered.

Dean shot him a hard look before sitting down beside Dad, counting on Dad wanting to help out with Liza some during dinner. Caleb sat on his other side.

"Dude," Dean motioned to the chair beside Dad, "you're sitting over there."

While Caleb grimaced and changed chairs, Dean concentrated on Dad. "You think he set me up?"

Dad shrugged again. "Well, you did say he picked you up. It would make sense, if he was really interested, to throw a few games of pool to put you in a receptive mood."

Holy crap, that would make sense!

"B-but Frankie really doesn't play pool that well," Dean protested.

"So why would he play for money?" Dad demanded, one eyebrow arched. "Son, it sounds to me like you were set up from the word go."

Caleb chuckled as Dean's jaw dropped. "Shit," he hissed. Well, it just went to show how bad Frankie wanted him, didn't it. Yeah, okay, this was a good thing.

He snapped his mouth closed with a grin. "Well, who wouldn't want this body, huh?"

Dad groaned, rolling his eyes while Caleb chuckled again.

"It's good to see his ego hasn't changed," Caleb said to Dad.

Dad picked up a sugar packet to throw at the other hunter. Dean checked his watch. They hadn't been here too long, so he shouldn't start to worry yet. Besides, Frankie and Lisa together? It could easily be an hour before Frankie could get away.

The server, a decent looking guy in his mid-twenties, wanted their drink order. Dean hesitated on whether or not to order for Frankie, not sure how long the big guy would be delayed. Then again, if Frankie arrived in a few minutes and there wasn't a drink waiting for him, Dean could be in the doghouse.

"Two rootbeers," he requested. Dad and Caleb both ordered beer, with Caleb giving him a funny look.

"What?" Dean demanded the instant their server walked away.

"Rootbeer?" Caleb asked with a snort. "Dude, really?"

"Yes, really," Dean snapped. "I've had more than enough beer, thanks."

"Since when has Dean ever turned down beer?" Caleb asked Dad.

Dad appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I'd have to go with a little over a year now? Right?"

"No beer for a full year," Dean informed his father. "And I've taking it easy for the past three months, thank you very much."

"No beer for a year?" Caleb demanded with wide eyes. "What happened? Were you abducted by AA? Or aliens?"

Dean leaned back grinning. "Actually, I'm wondering if you're going to be able to guess."

He spotted Frankie coming in through the front door, wrestling with Liza and the diaper bag, and no one was helping him. They still didn't have a high chair, either. Crap! Dean jumped up and rushed over to help.

"Da-eee! Da-eee!" Liza screamed at his approach.

"Oh, good," Frankie mumbled as the diaper bag slipped off his shoulder to dangle from his elbow. "Take her?"

Liza stretched out her arms to him. Dean gathered her up, relieved to feel the little body clinging to him. Frankie shifted the diaper bag strap back on to his shoulder.

"She's been screaming da-eee since I picked her up." He grinned at Dean. "Guess I owe you fifty bucks, huh?"

Dean grinned back. "Oh, you don't have to pay in cash." He winked suggestively.

Frankie chuckled as the hostess grabbed one of the highchairs to push over to their table. "Only you can say that while holding a baby and actually look sexy."

Dean glanced up at him, prepared to toss back another innuendo, when one of the locals stopped them. "Oh!" the woman squealed. "Is this the famous Liza?"

Liza's eyes went wide and her hands clutched Dean's shirt in tight fists. The woman leaned right into the poor kid's face.

"Oo-gi-choo-gi-gooo!" she said in a high-pitched voice. Liza shrank back, closer to Dean's chest, her body trembling but she did not start crying.

"Uh, I'm sorry," Dean said as pleasantly as he could. "We're meeting people for dinner." He waved at their table and edged away.

"Well, she is just adorable!" the woman said, reaching out to touch his baby.

"Thanks, Ginny," Frankie said and Dean felt the big guy press between him and the woman. He heard Frankie whisper, "My father-in-law gets cranky when we keep him waiting."

Dean chuckled as he strode to the table. Caleb had a really strange look on his face, which Dean enjoyed immensely. He chose not to use the highchair until it was time to eat. Besides, Liza tended to get cranky when she was in a restrained space too long.

"Hey, sweetie," Dad said to her. Liza relaxed a little, smiling at Dad. "How's my girl, huh?" He grinned and clapped a little at her.

"And who is this?" Caleb asked slowly.

"Caleb, I'd like you to meet Liza Samantha Warren," Dean said proudly, rubbing one hand along her back. "My daughter."

"Your...uh...daughter." Caleb glanced between him and Frankie a couple of times. "Wait. Samantha?"

Dean chuckled as Liza leaned on him to study Caleb across the table. "Sam likes it."

"He does?" Caleb asked, astounded.

"Why not?" Dad demanded. "Have you ever had anyone named after you?"

"I swear, Dad, Jonathina was on the list," Dean insisted.

Dad laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Son, if you had named her that, I would've disowned you." Dad nodded at Frank. "But you can stay."

Dean glanced over in time to catch the pleased expression on Frankie's face. "Thanks, John."

"So where did Liza come from?" Caleb asked in an odd tone.

"See, when two people care about each other..." Dean began.

"Uh, Frank?" Dad motioned towards Liza.

"Dean, pass her over," Frank demanded.

"Why?" Dean asked defensively.

"Because she needs to be out of the line of fire," Frank replied, both hands open and reaching for her.

Liza reached for her pop, going on again about "da-eee". With a sigh, Dean handed her over. The instant she was in Frankie's arms, she reached for Dean again.

"Da-eee!" Liza squealed, reaching for Dean.

He exchanged a confused look with Frankie before taking her. Liza laughed and clapped before reaching for Frankie again, "Da-eee!"

"Oh," Dean said, meeting Frankie's gaze as he passed her over. "New game."

Frankie chuckled as he balanced Liza on his thigh. She laughed and clapped again, spurring Dad to lean forward and join in. Liza banged on the table with both hands as she laughed at Dad.

"How old is she?" Caleb asked, leaning forward on the table.

"A little over six months," Dean replied as their server delivered the drinks. He watched Caleb attempting to add in his head. "Six and nine equals fifteen." Dean grinned. "So does twelve and three, by the way."

Caleb's brow was deeply furrowed when the waiter returned for their food order. He barely managed to order some spaghetti, his eyes never leaving Dean.

"Uh, Dean?" Caleb motioned to the front door. "I need a smoke. Mind joining me?"

Dean glanced over at Frankie.

"You're not really going to smoke?" Frankie asked softly. Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Don't take too long."

"Da-eee!" Liza screamed as he stood.

With a shrug, Dean held out his hands and she reached for him. "We'll be back in a minute," Dean amended. "You two better behave." He shot Dad and Frankie an undeserved glare. Frankie waved him out while Dad rolled his eyes.

He and Caleb stepped outside, Caleb holding the door open for him.

"You sure you don't mind me smoking around the kid?" Caleb asked, his brow still furrowed.

Dean shot him a hard look. "You didn't want to come out here to smoke anyway."

Caleb sighed. He glanced around, but there was not a place to sit out here. "Okay, all right." He shrugged, turning back to face Dean. "What happened? I mean, did you hire a surrogate mother? Knock some girl up? What?"

Dean grinned. "Driving you crazy, isn't it?"

Caleb glared at him.

Yeah, okay, so he was dragging this out a bit. So what? It was fun, and he hadn't heard from this bastard in five or six years.

"Have you noticed Liza's eyes?" he asked, holding his daughter higher for inspection. "Check out those blue eyes. Just like Frankie's."

"So she's his?" Caleb asked. "Then why'd you call her your daughter?"

"Because she is," Dean insisted. "Caleb, remember when I used to ask you if you'd ever heard of someone who was, you know, both? Male and female?"

"Uh... Yeah. I think so," he replied slowly. Then comprehension dawned on his face. "No shit? She's really both of yours?"

Relieved it wasn't going to take more, Dean nodded. This was probably the easiest explanation he'd had to do.

"Whoa." Caleb leaned against the exterior wall of the restaurant. Then an amused expression crossed his face. "So. The sex?" He gave Dean a searching look.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Dude, you will never change." He headed towards the front doors. Pausing before opening the door, Dean looked back over his shoulder. "Sex god," he whispered.

"Really? Frank?" Caleb hurried to follow them inside.

"Oh, yeah," Dean affirmed.

Liza, apparently tired of not being the center of attention, grabbed both of his cheeks with her hands, which Dean now noticed were sticky. "And what did Aunt Lisa let you eat, huh?"

Her little face beamed with a smile worthy of Frankie. Dean grinned back, his heart soaring just from watching her. He fell into his chair at the table, intentionally landing hard. Liza laughed loud.

He heard Frankie say, "She's fearless in Daddy's arms."

"Not in yours?" Caleb asked as Dean attempted to drag his attention from this child in his arms, but she was so darn cute. He bounced her again, just to hear her laugh.

"Not so much," Frankie said with a chuckle.

"Well, maybe if Pop wasn't such a klutz, huh?" he asked Liza. Dean felt a poke in his side, which he ignored. "How many walls has he walked you into, you poor baby?"

Now it was a slap on his thigh. Dean shifted his head slightly to grin at Frankie, who looked a little aggravated. He gave his spouse a huge grin. Dean might have continued teasing Frankie, but their food arrived.

* * *

Caleb figured he understood it now, why Dean actually took the plunge. Well, hell, if he met someone as good looking as Frankie who was also a hermaphrodite, he might consider marriage too. All through dinner Caleb couldn't help studying Frank from the corner of his eye, trying to see if he looked different. Well, you know, different from a regular guy, like him and Dean. He noticed a few not-so-manly hand gestures, but that was about it.

Darn. How the hell was he supposed to be able to spot one himself, huh? He needed some clues. Caleb was planning on hanging around at least two or three days, so maybe he would be able to corner Dean and get some pointers. Yeah, that was a plan.

"Caleb?" Frank asked. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Oh, uh, not exactly. I mean, I haven't booked a room yet," Caleb replied.

"Well, our place is pretty damned crowded, but there's a couch if you're interested," Frank offered.

"And an extra bed in my room," John added.

Frank gave John a quick smile. "I didn't want to speak for you."

"Appreciate it," John replied slowly, giving Frank the impression there might be some tension between those two.

"The bed would be great," Caleb decided to accept the offer before anyone could withdraw it. "But can I follow Frank to the house?"

John and Dean laughed at him while Frank got this really puzzled look. The kid looked up at Dean and John, then her face broke out in a huge open mouthed grin as she laughed loudly and banged her hands on the tray of the highchair. The french fry she had clutched in her hand broke as laughed and and beat her fists.

Grinning, Dean shook his head once as he reached for a fresh fry from the small plate on the table. "Hey you, want this?"

The child, more of a baby really, examined both of her fists carefully. The one with the broken fry received a nasty look as the hand opened and shook off the mushy remains. She reached for the new fry Dean was still holding out. Dean's grin widened as she took it. He broke off the end once it was held firmly in her grasp. The new fry made its way into the child's open mouth after grazing her cheek.

"You know," Frank said slowly, "that other fry is looking pretty sorry. I could just take it and..." His voice broke off at the nasty glare from Dean.

"Touch it and die," Dean said in a low voice. "I'm actually getting to eat hot food, and if you screw that up..."

Frank's attention dove back to his lasagna.

"Uh, Dean, I don't think Frank meant anything by it," John said.

Both of Dean's eyebrows lifted as he turned to look at his father. "Goes for you too," he snapped as he reached for his fork. "And if she finishes before me, she's going to sit in her granddad's lap."

"I'll take her now," John said defiantly.

Dean's attention darted to the child. "Nah. She's fine." He nodded at Caleb. "So I see you still haven't upgraded from that piece-o-crap Mopar, huh?"

Caleb went along with Dean's change in topic, arguing the virtues of his beloved Dodge. John had to add his two cents, of course, the man couldn't keep his mouth shut when it came to cars. Unfortunately, he and Dean had pretty much identical views when it came to automobiles. And sports. Politics. Actually, everything except maybe sexual relationships.

Dean dropped his napkin on the table. "Back in a minute."

"What about Liza?" Frank asked.

"I'll check after I come back," Dean replied with a shrug. "And she seems happy enough."

After Dean disappeared through the restroom doors, John leaned with his forearms on the table. "Why Dean? Doesn't this place have a changing table in the men's room?"

Frank shook his head. "Tony said Dean can use the one in the women's restroom."

"Dean?" Caleb asked. "Not you?" Now why would this Tony guy let Dean in the women's room instead of Frank, who would arguably have a right to go in there?

Frank gave him an incredulous look. "Why would Tony tell me to go in there?"

"Uh, because, uh, it has a changing table?" Caleb replied weakly.

John snorted a laugh, one hand slamming over his mouth. When he caught both of them looking at him, John started stroking his short beard. "How's Little Lizzie doing with those fries?" John rumbled.

When Frank smiled, he had the broadest damn grin Caleb had ever seen. "I think she might be tired of this highchair."

John held his hands out. Frank wrestled the kid out of the highchair and then passed her over to John, her grandfather.

"Man, you just don't seem old enough to be a grandfather," Caleb said with a chuckle.

"I'm not," John stated as he dabbed at the kid's face with his napkin, but there was still white mushy stuff clinging to her cheeks. "But I'm enjoying it anyway."

Frank chuckled. "Well, we sure appreciate the help, John. And I don't think I've seen Dean as relaxed as he has been since you and Sam moved in."

"Really?" John frowned. "I wouldn't have thought that. I always thought me and Sam in the same room made him nervous."

"Only when you argue," Frank explained. "He loves having all of his family around. Hell, he moved Serene in for Sam."

Caleb pointed his bottled beer at Frank. "That sounds like Dean. Wait a minute. How many people are living in your house?"

"Four adults and one baby," Frank replied with that huge grin. "Five adults when we have a house guest, like Bobby or Jim. Or you."

"So it's a big place, right?" Caleb asked. "Like five, six bedrooms?"

John had a strange look on his face as he glanced at Frank.

"It's cozy," Frank told him. He shrugged, that big grin spreading again and his eyes looking past Caleb. "I like it."

Confused, Caleb turned to see Dean approaching the table with a similar beaming expression on his face. Caleb thought he might be ill. Maybe he should think about going to the motel after all.

Dean scooped up the diaper bag before taking the baby from John. "We won't be long. Unless her highness has other ideas." He nuzzled her neck with his nose as they walked away. They could hear Liza's laughter all the way to the restrooms.

"Damn it," Frank muttered. "Forgot my camera."

"Dude," John chuckled, "don't you have enough photo albums already?"

Frank's blue eyes sparkled when he turned to face John. "Not even close."


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54 **_- A little short, but action is coming up in the next chapter. And Caleb is set straight in this one!_

"You're sure?" Dean demanded in a hushed voice. He pulled the curtain closed around Liza's crib.

"Yeah." Frankie yawned and stretched. "I have the early shift tomorrow, but you can stay up and visit if you want. Just promise you won't whisk him off for a romantic get-away."

Startled, Dean stared at the big guy. "Why the hell would you say that?" he demanded.

Frankie gave him a peck on the cheek before pulling his work shirt out of his pants. "How old were you when you got this crush on Caleb?"

Dean groaned, closing his eyes and rubbing the space between his eyebrows. "Sheesh! Does everybody but Sam know?"

"I wouldn't bank on that," Frankie said, tossing his shirt at the dirty clothes basket. "Sam's catching on to this kind of stuff now."

Dean dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. "Great. That's all I need."

"Go on, Babe," Frankie encouraged. "Have fun. But, uh, your dad will be out there too, right?"

Dean glared. "Don't you trust me?"

His smile, the big one, bloomed. "Of course I trust you. What kills me is knowing I can't trust anyone else around you, because you so damned irresistible."

"Big idiot," Dean muttered as he stood, trying to cover how much he liked hearing it when Frankie said stuff like that.

"Ah, you love it," Frankie told him.

He got a kiss on the cheek and a groped ass as he headed for the door. Yeah, he still had it. Dean grabbed the six pack chilling in the fridge before carrying one of the kitchen chairs outside. Dad held the door for him as he made his way out. This was historic. It was probably the first time since he and Frankie had been together that there were more than two chairs on the back patio.

Caleb and Dad were in the lawn chairs, and Sam already had one of the other kitchen chairs outside.

"We weren't sure you were coming," Dad said as he closed the door to the house.

"Liza was a little fussy. Way past her bedtime," Dean explained. He grinned as he set his chair between Sam and Caleb. "But she had a blast tonight."

"She's not usually that happy?" Caleb asked him.

"Sure she is," Dad said before Dean had the chance. "She gets it from Frank."

"Thanks, Dad," Dean drawled sarcastically.

Dad flashed him a bright smile as he took one of Dean's beers. Dad steered the conversation around hunting for a while, until he started to look too tired for Dean's liking.

"Dad? Maybe you should hit the sack," Dean suggested.

"Nah." Dad waved off the suggestion. "I'm fine."

"Dad, I think Dean's right," Sam put in. "You don't look too good."

"I'm fine!" Dad snapped, his eyes flashing. Quick to anger, not a good sign. It meant Dad was probably overtired too.

"Dad," Dean said in his most reasonable voice, "you know we're just worried about you." He checked his watch. "And it's really late. We should all probably be going to bed."

"Yeah." Sam stood and stretched. "I'm beat. Good night." Without sparing a glance for any of them, Sam headed into the house.

Dad gave Dean a sheepish look. "I'm being testy again, right?"

Dean nodded, swigging back the rest of the beer in his can.

Dad sighed and shrugged. "All right. I guess I should call it a night. Want some help with the chairs?"

"We got it," Dean replied quickly. Dad still wasn't supposed to be lifting anything. "Night, Dad."

Dad paused before going in, turning around to hug Dean. He whispered in Dean's ear, "I'll talk to Sam in the morning."

Dean slapped Dad's back in thanks before his father broke away. Dad gave Caleb's shoulder a squeeze as he headed inside. Dean rolled his eyes at his old friend before gathering up their trash.

"Things haven't changed much, have they?" Caleb asked, shaking his head.

"It's better," Dean admitted. "It really is. They're not at each other's throats now, but some days..." He sighed, shaking his head. "We almost lost him, Caleb. It was touch-and-go." He ran a hand over his head as Caleb's eyes widened. Dean jerked his head at the house. "That's when Sam settled down. Dad'll get there."

Caleb let out a low whistle. "I had no idea, Dean. Does Jim know?"

Dean nodded. "He and Bobby were there. Don't let that 'I'm fine' crap fool you, either. Dad's not fine, he's still recovering. And the only reason I'm telling you any of this..." Dean stared hard at their old family friend, trying to impress on him the importance of what he was saying. "Is because I don't want Dad pushing himself. I know he's going to talk you into going someplace, just the two of you. That's fine, but no strenuous physical activity and he still hasn't been cleared to drive. Be sure he takes it easy."

Caleb's jaw dropped, but just for a moment. "Yeah, sure. No problem. Man, I can't believe Jim didn't mention anything. What happened?"

"Demon." Dean chewed his lower lip for a moment, considering exactly how much he wanted to tell a man he hadn't spoken to in nearly six years. "We took care of it, but not before it almost killed him."

"Figures." Caleb sighed as he crushed a beer can under his foot. "I guess your dad used himself as the bait. Again."

"Again?" Dean just stared at the man. Since when had Dad ever been the freaking bait? "Christo?"

Caleb's brow furrowed, but there was no flash of demonic activity in his eyes. "Yes, I'm talking about your father. He uses himself as bait all the time. You know that."

"I've seen Dad use _me_ as bait all the freaking time," Dean replied, not quite believing they were having this stupid argument.

"What about that hunt in Tennessee? The wraith?" Caleb asked. Dean shook his head, he wasn't on that one.

"Ohio. The shapeshifter." Dean shook his head again.

"I know. Illinois. Poltergeist."

Dean scowled. "Dude, that was me!"

Caleb frowned in concentration. "Oh. Right. Maybe it was."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Are you going to help with the chairs or what?"

"Yeah, sure."

As quietly as they could, they put the hard wooden chairs back around the kitchen table. After snagging a trash bag Dean went back outside, with Caleb close behind, to collect the trash.

"Dean? Can I ask you a kind of personal question?" Caleb asked the moment the door clicked shut.

Dean rolled his eyes at the sky. He knew this had to be coming. "You never asked for permission before."

A short chuckle followed his comment. "Well, I was just wondering... What's it like?"

Dean stuffed the crushed cans into the bag. When he was done, he dropped into one of the lawn chairs. Caleb was watching him, curiosity burning in those dark eyes.

"What is what like?" Dean demanded.

A smirk erupted on Caleb's face. "Being able to have sex any way you want it."

Dean rolled his eyes again. "I knew it," he muttered to himself. "Dude, it's not like I can compare it with not being able to. What kind of question is that?"

The smirk dropped. "It's a reasonable question," Caleb argued. "Now that you're with Frank, you can have girl sex or guy sex, your pick, all with the same person. What's it like?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Caleb's evaluating looks at Frankie all through dinner flashed through Dean's mind. "Holy crap, you thought I was talking about Frankie?"

"Huh?" Caleb stared at him. "You did tell me Frank was a hermaphrodite, right?"

Dean laughed at that, right in Caleb's face. It was just so...unexpected. Hell, everybody in this damn town knew, Dean had been getting to the point where he thought it must just be obvious. Well, granted, while he was pregnant it had been obvious. Now, apparently, not so much.

"Dude," Dean chuckled after taking a deep breath. "Not Frankie. Me."

"You what?" Caleb asked, confusion raging across his face.

Dean shook his head at his old friend. "Frankie is all guy. Well..." He shrugged. "Not all macho guy. I mean, he likes his fluffy curtains and smelly soaps, but he's definitely just one gender. I'm not." He pointed at the house. "That's _my_ baby in there. If hear any guy say a pregnant woman is just whining about swollen ankles or a sore back, I'll kick his ass. Don't get me started on freaking labor pains either."

Caleb's jaw dropped as his eyes went real wide, like a cartoon character. Yeah, this was more the reaction he had been expecting. Dean started to stand and leave the guy out here to gather his thoughts, maybe in the morning talk more or (hopefully) pretend they never had this conversation, but Caleb held up a hand to stop him. When Dean resumed his seat, Caleb pointed at him, eyebrows up. Dean nodded. Caleb's held his hand up again to stop Dean, though he had no idea if it was to stop him from leaving or speaking, so he just waited silently.

Caleb's mouth closed slowly. He swallowed a few times before speaking again. "So. You're telling me that I turned down the offer of a three-way with a bombshell red-head and you, a real honest-to-god hermaphrodite, just because I was scared of John Winchester?"

Dean nodded again in reply.

Caleb continued to stare at him for a few moments. "I am a fucking moron."

Dean shrugged. "I thought so."

Caleb sighed as he leaned back in the chair. "I will never forgive myself."

Slapping Caleb's knee as he stood, Dean made for the house with the trash bag in one hand. "I did. Come on, it's late. And remember what I told you about Dad."

He deposited the trash under the kitchen sink before heading to the master bedroom. Dean waited until Caleb had closed the door to Dad's room before going inside. Their bathroom light was on, gentle illumination spilling into the bedroom so he could see. Dean prepared for bed quickly in the bathroom. He turned off the light and walked carefully through their room in semi-darkness. Slipping carefully under the covers so as not to disturb Frankie, Dean stretched out. Almost instantly, Frankie rolled over to face him.

"No secret rendezvous?" he whispered and Dean could hear the teasing in his voice.

"You really need to stop reading those crappy romance novels," Dean whispered back. "They rot your brain."

Frankie leaned in for a goodnight kiss. He rolled over to lay on his back to sleep. One hand snaked under the covers, grasping Dean's. Dean squeezed back.

"I had an idea," Frankie said softly into the dark.

"What?"

"You know grandparent day at the park is day after tomorrow, right?" he asked.

Dean grunted, refusing to admit he didn't know what day of the week it was. Frankie chuckled.

"Well, it is. If Caleb is still here, he could drive John and Liza to the park to meet my mom," Frankie suggested. "Serene has the afternoon shift, Sam will probably be doing God knows what at the library, since he's there all the time lately, which will leave just the two of us in an empty house."

Dean gave Frankie's hand another squeeze. "That's sneaky and underhanded and totally taking advantage of Caleb. I like it. It's a date."

Frankie chuckled again. Dean relaxed, allowing his mind to drift as he listened to Frankie's breathing even out into a light sleep.

* * *

Joe slipped the newspaper announcement about the Warrens out of sight, where his brother shouldn't find it. The scumbag, Dean, really had something to lose now. How would he feel about that baby disappearing? It was a plan.

He had managed to discover there was a grandparent day at the park in Pearland every month, which the baby of the freak attended like clockwork. With dozens of infants around, Joe figured he would be able to walk through with an empty stroller, swap it for a full one, and leave the park before anyone noticed. He could bring the baby back here. For a while. Until it got fussy, anyway. Hey, maybe they could squeeze some money out of them too, for the baby freak's safe return. Now that was a thought. They were kind of short on cash.


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

Two days later Joe sat on a park bench gently rolling a stroller back and forth. It held a cheap baby doll covered with a baby blanket. He watched the old ladies gather hauling little kids, pushing baby strollers, and carrying infants. The low rumble of an older model Dodge pulling up on the street caught his attention. Two men got out of the car. One of them removed a stroller from the trunk while the other brought a baby out of the backseat.

"There's my Liza!" One of the older women cried out, waving at the men. The man with the beard holding the baby waved back.

Joe kept his eye on the prize. He had to wait a while before making his move. The older kids were crawling all over the playground equipment. The two men in charge of the Warren baby sat off to the side of the crowd of women, but the stroller was right on the edge of the crowd, between the women and the men.

The moment everyone looked comfortable, the men sleepy and the women engrossed in gossip, Joe made his move. He parked his stroller right next to the one he wanted while he leaned down to tie his shoe. When he stood up again, he took the stroller with the baby in it, leaving his decoy. Joe walked briskly, without stopping, to his car just on the other side of the park. He placed the sleeping baby in his stolen car seat. It was kind of big, but he figured it wouldn't matter much. After tightening the straps, Joe stuffed the entire stroller, blanket, toys and diaper bag, in his empty trunk. He might have bent it a little, but it fit with a little coaxing.

Joe jumped behind the wheel, amazed no one had noticed yet. As he pulled away from the curb, he noticed the crowd of grandparents standing and gathering together. Maybe they had noticed. Grinning manically, Joe headed for the rental house. He did it! Gary wouldn't be real happy, at first, but when they got the money he would be.

* * *

Frank had plans to get off work early today since it was grandparent day at the park. Once a month his mother took all the grandkids, including Liza, to the park and met all her blue-haired busy body friends. The women bragged on their grandchildren while the kids ran wild. Since John had moved in, at least for a while, he had been going too. With their friend Caleb here, there was someone other than Dean to drive John and Liza to the park.

Sam had mumbled something about spending the afternoon at the library and Serene was working, so Frank had plans. He and Dean wouldn't even have to be quiet. Frank was hoping to damage the sheetrock behind the headboard of their bed. He was so distracted with anticipation he almost forgot to charge one customer sales tax.

His phone went off about an hour before he was scheduled to be off. Frank slipped it out of his pocket. When the caller id read 'Dean' he grinned. "Getting anxious?" he teased as he answered.

"Frank, be out front in two minutes. I'm picking you up." Dean sounded deadly serious.

Frank's entire body tensed. "Dean? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Just be there," Dean snapped. "I have to call Sam."

The connection went dead in his hand. All kinds of horrible things flashed through his mind. Dean hadn't called him 'Frankie' or 'Baby', just Frank. This was bad, whatever _this_ was.

He mumbled some excuses to a couple of the salespeople who worked under him before dashing out the door. The next minute before Dean's Impala roared up was one of the longest in his life. Frank jumped into the passenger seat and barely had time to slam the door closed before Dean floored the accelerator. His cell pressed to his ear, Dean drove with one hand as they left the parking lot with a squeal and the scent of burnt rubber.

"Just find it, Sam!" Dean snapped into the phone. A low growl emanated from Dean's throat and Frank wondered what in the hell was going on. "Where?" he demanded. "Good. Call me when it stops or in ten minutes, whichever comes first. I need to talk to Frank."

The phone bounced on the seat between them and both hands gripped the steering wheel. "Something happened at the park," he said in a tense voice.

Frank held on to the dash with one hand and the seat with the other. "What?" he asked, fully afraid of the answer.

"Before I tell you, I want you to know that we have a plan," Dean replied in the same stern voice. "So no freaking out or having a stroke, you got that?"

Frank swallowed hard and nodded. Good god, what could be this bad?

"Frank?" Dean demanded.

"Yeah," he choked out. "Okay."

"Liza's missing," Dean said, his eyes pinned to the road. "Remember that stupid pink rabbit Sam gave her and made us promise to take with her everywhere?"

Frank shook his head. "Not-not really." Did Dean say something about Liza?

"Yeah, well, Sam lo-jacked it," Dean said. They took a corner fast enough for two wheels to leave the ground. Frank clung to the seat. "It looks like they took the stroller, diaper bag and everything, so they have the rabbit too. According to the GPS, she's heading into Carlin."

"Liza?" Frank asked. His brain refused to wrap itself around the concept. "How can Liza be in Carlin?"

"Stay with me here, Frank," Dean snapped. "Someone took her, right under the noses of your mom and my dad. And Caleb." Dean's head shook. "Dad's gonna beat himself up about this for years."

Frank's eyes stared unseeing out the window. Liza? Gone? No, it couldn't be true. Lisa probably just picked up all the kids from the park. He pulled out his cell with the intention of calling his sister.

Dean's hand closed around his cell. "Frank, baby, listen to me. Are you listening?" He took Frank's cell phone away, but the warm reassuring hand returned to grasp his. "Frank?"

Frank forced himself to turn to look at Dean, to see the tension in Dean's face and the worry lines in his brow. The last time Dean looked like this was right before he headed out to Stanford to try to talk Sam into looking for their missing father. He slid his fingers between Dean's and held on tight.

"Listening," he promised.

Dean's hand squeezed his tighter. "Someone took Liza. We, you and I, are going to get her back." Dean glanced over anxiously. "Got that?"

"Now?" Frank asked, his mind in a whirl.

"Now," Dean replied sternly.

Frank expelled loudly. "Good," he said with relief. "You were making it sound serious."

Dean glanced over a couple of times. "Uh, Frank? Isn't this serious?"

Frank shook his head as he leaned back against the seat. "Not if we're going to get her. How do we know where she is?"

"We don't," Dean replied, releasing Frank's hand. He picked up his cell. "But Sam does. Hang on."

Dean hit the redial on his phone. Frank trusted Dean and his brother-in-law implicitly. He couldn't focus enough to listen to this side of the conversation, but when Dean closed his cell again he seemed to have purpose.

"We have an address," he reported. "It'll take another ten or fifteen minutes to get there."

Frank nodded, wishing he could hold Dean's hand again but figuring his spouse needed both to drive. When they hit the city limits of Carlin the car slowed to the speed limit and Frank felt a strong hand grasp his.

"Why did we slow down?" Frank asked, his mind and body both feeling numb. It was like all of his emotions were on hold and this whole thing was happening to someone else while he watched.

"Don't want to be pulled over on the way," Dean said stiffly. "It'd just slow us down."

Frank nodded as he squeezed Dean's hand tighter. No matter how tightly he held Dean's hand, this felt surreal. "What are we going to do when we get there?" he asked dully.

"Take her back." Dean sounded downright dangerous when he said that. It caused one side of Frank's mouth to twitch up in an odd grin.

The car slowed down even more when they turned into a neighborhood. Dean stopped the car and dropped Frank's hand again. He pressed the cell against his ear.

"Well?" he demanded of the phone. "Aren't you tracking me too?" Dean grunted and rolled his eyes. He swore under his breath. "What? Sam! Focus! Where the hell is my kid!"

Dean snorted through his nose as he put the car back in drive. "About time. Was that so hard?" Dean's eyes rolled. "Yeah, whatever. Just get me there." They turned down a couple more streets before Dean nodded at the windshield. "Okay, I got it. And Sam? Thanks." He nodded again before handing his phone to Frank.

Frank, working on automatic, took the phone and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. Dean pointed down the street at a small rent house with a dead lawn and peeling paint. "Right there."

Frank watched Dean expectantly. "Now what?"

Dean put the car in park again. "Wait here." Frank waited while Dean stepped out of the car. He heard the trunk open and slam closed. Dean returned holding a couple of handguns. One was black and the other silver with pearl handles. Dean stuffed both in his waistband under his button-down shirt.

"We'll park next door, on the street," he announced as he glared out the windshield. "I'll keep 'em busy while you get Liza."

Frank nodded. There was nothing he could say in reply to that. It wasn't like his brain was working anyway. After Dean parked the car Frank followed closely, barely aware of their surroundings. When Dean pressed an ear against the house door, Frank realized they were standing in the backyard of the rental house. Dean pulled out one gun, the silver one. It hung at his side gripped loosely in his hand. Frank took an instinctive step back as he watched his spouse ready for action.

Dean shook out his arms and rolled his head. Then the hard, determined look came back over his face and his shoulders squared. He appeared damned intimidating. Unfortunately, Frank couldn't enjoy the sight. He was too focused on what they might find behind that door.

Dean's steel-toed boot crashed against the door, kicking it open. It slammed into the wall violently, bouncing back to close again. A second kick displaced the broken door and Dean shouldered the wreckage aside. Frank followed slowly. When he looked from inspecting the door, which still half hung from from its hinges, Dean had his gun trained on a guy who was kind of familiar.

"Where is she?" Dean demanded. Frank heard a click. "That wasn't a request," he said in a hard voice.

"Hey!" Dean shouted at the top of his voice. "I got a gun on your brother out here, so unless you want to be an only child?"

"Wait!" Another man stepped into the open. "Just wait! Gary? Are you all right?"

The guy Dean had the gun on made a face. "Joe, what did you do?" He looked over his shoulder. "Please tell me you didn't take the baby."

There was another metallic click. Frank shifted his attention back to Dean, who now held up both guns. He motioned with the black one to the second man.

"Move it! Over there!" Dean lined both men against the wall. "Frank!" he snapped. "Check the house."

Frank heard Dean's voice growling something, but he decided not to worry about it. Those guys weren't important. There were only a few doors in the single hallway in this tiny house. The first one was for the bathroom. It was disgusting. Frank closed the door on it quick. He wiped his hand off on his shirt before opening the next door.

As the door creaked open, he was greeted with a whimper. Frank's heart soared as he followed the whimper to the far side of the bed. Liza stood on wobbly legs, clinging to the bedspread. When she spotted Frank, her face lit up.

"Da-eeeee!"

Frank scooped her up into his arms. "Oh, thank god," he whispered as he held her close. Relief coupled with the enormity of the situation washed through him as he clutched her tight. They had lost her. It could have been for good. Liza wriggled in his grip but Frank was not about to turn her loose. He glanced around the room, but none of her things were in here. Not even the stupid pink rabbit.

Frank carried her back into the main room. "I got her," he announced, now feeling firmly inside his own body. Before laying eyes on Liza, Frank felt more like a spectator but now he could be an active participant. "But I can't find any of her stuff."

Dean's gaze settled on the one called Joe. "Well?" he demanded.

"Still in the car," Joe said. There was a squeal of tires outside.

Dean nodded toward the front door. "Tell Sam and Dad to check the car," he instructed.

Frank stared at his spouse for a moment. "Aren't you coming outside with me?" he asked, confused.

Dean's eyes narrowed on the two men. "I don't think so. I have some business to take care of."

Frank stood beside Dean. "Give me the guns," he demanded. Dean glared at him. "You can stay," Frank explained. "But if you're going to kill them, it'll be bare-handed."

He shifted Liza into one arm to hold his hand palm out. Dean jerked his head at the front door. Frank carried Liza there, Dean only a couple of steps behind them. Dean kept the two guys covered the whole time.

"Open the door," Dean ordered in a low voice. Frank did and waited. He fired a round between the two men before handing the guns over to Frank. He made a face when he realized Frank couldn't carry both in one hand. He stuffed the unfired gun in Frank's back waistband and slapped the other in his open palm.

"And Dean?" Frank said as he stepped outside. He jerked his chin at the men. "Hurt them."

A nasty grin slid across Dean's face as he cracked his knuckles. "Yes, dear."

Frank closed the door behind him, which was awkward considering he was carrying the baby and a gun.

"Frank!" Sam's voice carried clearly. Frank turned to face the voice. "Dad, they found her!"

Relief flooded him as he watched his in-laws rush towards him. John frowned as he drew closer.

"Where's Dean?" John demanded.

Frank nodded at the house. "Inside." He heard a crash and cringed. "You can go check on him if you want." Frank searched his father-in-law's face. "I won't stop you," he added hopefully.

John frowned. "You really think I'd go in there and stop..." There was another loud crash, the sound of heavy furniture breaking. John waved a hand toward the house. "That?"

Frank gave the house a fearful look. "Well, I was hoping."

"An army couldn't stop that," another man's voice said. Frank frowned as he focused on Caleb. He hadn't noticed Caleb with his in-laws.

"Dean'll be fine," Sam assured him. "Where's Liza's stuff?"

"Oh, uh..." Frank dragged his attention from Caleb and searched his memory. "Dean wanted you to check the car." He looked at the empty driveway. "Maybe it's in the garage."

There was another sound of something large and heavy hitting a wall.

"On it," Sam called out, jogging towards the garage.

Frank debated on whether to go wait in the Impala, by Caleb's blue car, or right where he was standing. Liza started fussing again, waving her arms at the house. She wanted Dean, not that he blamed her. He wanted Dean out here too.

* * *

Sam found the car in the garage unlocked. Morons. Well, clearly they hadn't had time to unpack yet. The keys were still in the ignition. Sam used them to open the trunk. He found Liza's stroller, a bit worse for the wear, and her usual stuff for a trip to the park. He pulled it all out, taking the time to fold the stroller, before going back outside.

Caleb was trying to peer in through one of the front windows. "Maybe I could sneak in and open the curtains."

"Likely to get your ass kicked," Sam stated flatly.

Caleb spun to face him, startled. "When'd you learn to be quiet like that?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Like Dean said, if you bothered to call occasionally, you'd know these things. Dad, do you have a set of keys for the Impala?"

"Put it in Caleb's trunk," Dad ordered, motioning for Caleb to help.

Caleb jogged to the car to open the trunk for Sam. Sam would have appreciated a little help carrying all this baby crap, so it took him a few moments to make his way to the car. When he was close enough to start tossing things in the trunk, Caleb reached out to take some of it from him.

"Gee, thanks," Sam snapped.

Caleb grinned. "Any time, Sammy."

Once his hands were empty, Sam landed a half-hearted slug to Caleb's shoulder. "It's Sam, you asshole."

"Yeah, yeah," Caleb snorted. "I notice you don't fuss at Dean for calling you Sammy any more."

Sam shrugged. "No point. He's going to do it any way." Sam chose not to voice the fact he had figured out it was one way Dean showed affection. Sam had always been Sammy. Apparently Frank had been Frankie since meeting Dean. It was kind of nice being in this exclusive club.

Joining the others just outside the front door, Sam noticed Frank staring at the front door. He purposefully stood between Frank and the door.

"What are you doing?" Frank demanded.

"Keeping you out of trouble," Sam informed him calmly. "Dean'll kill me if you go in there."

Frank's mouth opened, no doubt in protest, but Dad cut him off.

"Sam's right, Frank. Right now Dean is targeting any thing that moves. You don't want to be in that category," Dad said. "I'm sure he'll be out in a few minutes."

They waited anxiously outside, listening to the sounds of objects breaking and heavy thumps against the floor and walls.

* * *

Dean saw red. Literally. He would have kept beating on these two bastards, too, but the older one managed to throw him off, into a wall of course. While Dean collected himself, a little out of breath and his whole body feeling just a bit sore, the older one crawled over to his brother.

"Joe? Joe?" He cradled his younger brother's head in his lap, stroking his hair. Tears streaked down the guy's face. "I swear," he said in a broken voice, "I didn't know. We'll move. Out of the state." He pulled his younger brother into his arms. "You'll never see us again, just don't kill him. Please. Please don't kill him."

Dean was panting hard from exertion. "If I ever see you again..."

The guy, Gary, shook his head. "Never."

"I'm going to check in a couple of days," Dean threatened.

"We'll be gone," Gary insisted, though the tears continued to trickle from his eyes.

"I better check on my family," Dean grunted. Gary's attention went back to his younger brother. Well, Dean could understand a little brother sneaking around behind his big brother's back. He had been a victim of it more than once.

Dean opened the front door, relieved to see everyone standing there waiting on him.

"Da-eeee!" Liza screamed. She fell into his arms, and it was the sweetest feeling in the world. Dean breathed in her sweet baby scent as he stood there holding her.

"Let's go home," Frankie whispered in his ear.

Dean dug his car keys out to hand over to Sam. "We're riding with Caleb," he explained. "The car seat is in there."

He led them to the car. After strapping Liza in the car seat, Dean sat next to her, one arm around her. Frankie joined them on the other side.

Unwilling to take his eyes of his baby's smiling face, Dean instructed Frankie. "Baby, give Caleb directions to the hospital in Pearland. I want Liza checked out."

"Sure, Babe." One of Frankie's big hands rested on the back of his neck. "Think maybe we can get you checked out too?"

"What for?" Dean asked with a sigh.

"So I can sleep tonight," Frankie said in a soft voice.

Dean leaned further over Liza's car seat relieved to feel the weight of Frankie's arm over his shoulders. His family was here, safe. Once he had Liza checked out and knew, for a fact, that she was fine, Dean planned to crawl in bed and sleep. For a week.


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56 **- _Okay, there is a little gutter time in here, and loads of schmoop!_

"She seems perfectly fine," the ER doctor, George Wilkins, assured them. Frank watched as Dean's shoulders sagged with relief. "They only had her for an hour or so?"

Dean nodded rigidly. Frank had the feeling Dean blamed himself instead of his father. He edged closer, wishing he could know Dean's reaction if he put an arm around his spouse right now,whether or not Dean would understand it was support and not blame. Then he felt a strong hand grasp his and hang on tight. Frank squeezed back.

"But let's take a look at that face," Wilkins said, reaching for Dean's jaw. "You look like you were in a fight with a brick wall."

Dean scowled, jerking his head away. "I'm fine," he snapped. "You're sure they didn't, uh, _do_ anything to her?"

A shudder ran down Frank's spine. He hadn't considered anything like that. Wilkins frowned, but he pulled open her diaper to check Liza over.

"No evidence they even changed her diaper, Dean," he informed them in a gentle voice. "Might have a little diaper rash starting there."

A whoosh of air came from Dean and Frank slid his hand out of Dean's to wrap and arm around his spouse's waist anyway, to hell with the consequences. He needed to be close right now. God, the things that could have happened to her...

"I see no reason to keep her here," Wilkins was saying when Frank tuned back in. "Just sign here and you can take this beautiful girl home. Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at your injuries, Dean?"

Dean took the form and signed it quickly. He picked Liza up, who appeared delighted for Daddy to be holding her.

"Da-eeee!" she squealed as they headed for the waiting area. Dean silently handed her over to Frank. The instant she was secure in Frank's arms, Liza reached for Dean. "Da-eee!"

Frank chuckled as he held her out to Dean. "I have a feeling we're going to be playing this a lot."

Dean nodded, pushing through the doors to the waiting area. Dean's silence was starting to wear rather heavy on Frank. He didn't like it. Not at all.

All of their family, John, Sam, his parents and Lisa, as well as that guy Caleb, were in the waiting room. They jumped to a stand as Liza again shouted "Da-eee!"

Everyone fussed over Liza, who beamed and laughed at all the attention. Frank had the feeling Dean would rather be anywhere but here. Frank let them fuss for a few minutes, until he noticed Dean's bloody face attracting unwanted attention.

"We're going home," he announced, taking Liza from his sister.

"I put the carseat in the Impala," Sam said, holding out the car keys. "And the rabbit."

Dean gave his brother a half-smile as he took the keys. "Thanks, Sam."

Frank carried Liza out to the car. He handed her off for Dean to strap in to the seat. Dean stood there, staring at her in the back seat for a moment after Liza was secure.

"Can I drive?" Frank asked, holding out his hand. "I'd feel better if you were sitting back there with her."

Dean's eyes were watery as he held out the keys. Frank took them and waited for Dean to sit in the back before sliding in behind the wheel. When he backed out, he felt Dean's hand grasp his shoulder from behind. The hand stayed there until they pulled in to the garage.

Frank followed Dean and Liza into the house. Liza's toys were strewn all over the floor except for a wide path from the door through the kitchen, as usual. Dean set her in the floor where she instantly headed for something colorful and noisy. Frank joined Dean on the couch where they could watch her.

Now that they were alone, Frank felt confident in putting an arm around Dean's shoulders. Dean leaned slightly against him, much to Frank's relief. He was more than a little surprised when none of his in-laws showed up immediately. When Liza started making demanding, "Da-da-da-da" noises, Dean checked his watch.

"She's hungry," he mumbled, standing up. Concerned, Frank watched his spouse head silently into the kitchen.

His cell went off. It was Sam.

"Yeah?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Hey, Frank. How's Dean doing? Should we stay at the bar for a while longer? It's bar-b-que night, so we don't mind," Sam told him.

"That might be a good idea," Frank admitted. Then an idea occurred to him. "Sam? After you come home, would you mind meeting me on the back patio?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll even bring the beer," Sam replied. "How about giving us a call when it's safe?"

"Sure thing," Frank replied, his eyes pinned to the sight of Dean reappearing with jars of baby food in hand. "We'll see you later."

"Later. Thanks, Frank!"

One of Dean's eyebrows lifted as he gave Frank a quizzical look.

Frank shrugged. "They're out drinking," he explained. "Wanted to know if we wanted them to come home now."

"And?" Dean asked.

"I told 'em to take their time," Frank replied.

A partial grin appeared on Dean's face as he nodded. Liza slapped the floor in her excitement when she saw her supper.

"Want to help?" Dean asked, motioning to her.

"Sure." Frank scooped baby girl off the floor. He carried her over to the table. Instead of putting her in the high chair, Frank opted to hold her in his lap. This seemed to delight Liza. The kid did love being the center of attention. Well, she had to inherit something from her pop, right?

Once Liza had eaten her fill, Frank helped clean her up. While she sat in Dean's lap, her eyelids heavy, Frank turned on some television show so they wouldn't be sitting there in silence. When Frank looked over again, he found Dean leaning as far back as he could against the arm of the couch with Liza sleeping on his chest. Dean's eyes were closed as well. Frank's eyes searched the room.

Ah-ha! There was his camera! Frank stood slowly, not wanting to disturb them. He snagged his camera off the bookshelf which stood between the other two bedroom doors. He almost hated to admit it, but Serene had made some nice contributions to the household. She owned more trashy novels than he did.

Frank managed to take three pictures before Dean's eyes fluttered open. He scowled, so Frank grinned at him. Dean rolled his eyes before relaxing back again and smiling. Taking advantage of Dean's rare cooperative mood, Frank snapped a couple more shots before putting his camera away.

"I hate to disturb you two, but how about I put her to bed?" Frank asked softly.

Dean sighed, one hand stroking her back. "I'd rather not," he whispered.

"I know." Frank kneeled next to the couch. "But I'd like to clean up your face before you crash for the night."

Dean frowned at him. "What's wrong with my face?" he demanded.

Frank shrugged. "You mean other than the fact half of it's covered in blood?"

Dean sighed again. "All right, but I'll put her in bed." He stood on steady feet. "You'd drop her."

Frank grinned at Dean's back as he followed. "Man, walk into a wall one time..." he groused, trying to sound serious and not like he was relieved that Dean was teasing him.

"One time?" Dean scoffed. "Dude, what have you been smoking? More like twenty or thirty times."

Dean laid Liza gently in her crib. He leaned against the side, staring down at her, until Frank tugged him away.

"It can't be that bad," Dean protested as they entered the bathroom. He stopped stock still at the white counter when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. "Damn," he breathed.

Frank ignored it, snagging the deluxe first aid kit from under the counter. "Sit on the toilet," he ordered. With a whoosh of air, Dean sat. He looked kind of like a little kid waiting to be punished, except he had blood, some dried and a little fresh, smeared across the left side of his face. Okay, maybe like a kid guilty of being in a nasty fight.

Frank soaked a wash cloth in cold water to clean up Dean's face. He had a number of cuts and scrapes high on his cheekbones and a nasty one over his left eye. Frank washed them all up with water and alcohol before applying some anti-bacterial cream. Only the one over Dean's eye seemed to require a bandage. At least, he hoped he was doing this right. Usually John already had Dean bandaged up before he came home and Frank just had to keep an eye on things to be sure Dean was improving, that no infections were setting in.

"Shirt off," Frank insisted when he was done with Dean's face.

Dean's mouth opened, as if he were going to protest, but then it snapped shut. He pulled off his shirt, revealing numerous bruises blossoming over his torso.

"Do the range of motion thing for your shoulder," Frank told him. He waited impatiently as Dean performed the stretching exercises. "Other arm," he insisted when Dean was done. Dean rolled his eyes, but he went through the same routine again, proving his other shoulder was fine.

Frank's hands fluttered at his side as he worried about those bruises. "Does anything feel, uh, broken?"

Dean stood, strong hands turning Frank around and shoving him out of the bathroom. "Come on," Dean said, his voice sexy despite the fact Frank was certain Dean hadn't intended for it to be. "Your turn."

Oh, great. Well, if his blood pressure was too high, it wasn't his fault! It had been a trying day. Frank sat on the side of the bed while Dean retrieved the monitor. He refused to watch as Dean wrapped the cuff around his arm and pressed the button. He heard Dean chuckle as the cuff was removed with the ripping sound of velcro.

"I don't believe it, but I'll take it," he said.

"Believe what?" Frank asked, dredging his eyes up to the sweet smile on Dean's face.

Dean held up the monitor. "It's low. I don't remember the last time it was this low." Those strong, battered fingers tangled in his hair. "I was sure it would be sky-high after what happened today."

Frank felt his face split in a wide smile. "I knew you'd take care of everything. I trust you."

"Jesus, Frankie," Dean breathed out as he dropped to sit next to Frank. "I didn't. Hell, I bet my blood pressure is around freaking Pluto."

Dean leaned over, his forehead resting on Frank's shoulder. His head turned from side to side. "We coulda lost her," he whispered.

Frank wrapped his arms around Dean, holding his spouse as tight as he dared considering all the bruising. "No, we couldn't have," he insisted, keeping his tone firm and strong. "Not with your family around."

Dean head lifted to shoot him a strong look. "Are you kidding? They took her with Dad right freaking there!"

Frank nodded. "Yeah, and who noticed before the guy had time to make a clean get-away? Your dad, that's who. And why couldn't he make a totally clean get-away? Because your brother is more paranoid than you are, which I didn't think was possible, and freaking lo-jacked our daughter." He chuckled as held Dean close. "There is no way anyone could get away with doing anything to Liza with you and your family around. So there is no way I'm ever going to let you get a divorce." Frank shrugged. "You know, for her sake."

Dean pulled him back onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around Frank. Tight. "Yes, dear." Frank barely heard the whispered words.

"Come here." Frank scooted back, until he could stretch out, tugging Dean with him. Dean laid beside him, the front of his body pressing against Frank's side. They laid there for a while, drawing comfort from each other.

"Can I call Sam?" Frank asked before sleep could claim him. "Tell them it's safe to come back?"

"Nah." Dean sighed as he pushed up to a sit. "I will."

Frank handed over his cell and listened while Dean called his brother. It was short and to the point, basically "come home when you want" and "bye". When he was finished, Dean set the phone on the headboard of the bed. He stared at Frank for a moment before pulling Frank's shirt out of his pants.

Frank sat up to help, yanking it off over his head. Then Dean pushed him back down, laying partially on him. Soft kisses rained down his neck.

"I was thinking about a nap," Frank teased, rolling his head to the side to let Dean do whatever he wanted.

"You think too much," Dean muttered, working up behind his ear. Then he paused. "You're honestly not upset?"

Frank let out a long breath as he ran his hands over Dean's back. "Honestly? I'm relieved." He met Dean's worried gaze. "And I love having my own personal warrior."

The worry in Dean's face cracked, replaced with a weak smile. "Big idiot."

Frank smiled back. "This might earn me an ass-kicking, but I have to say it. You're a sweetheart."

Dean's eyes rolled as he dropped down to lay on his side, his body still pressed against Frank and head propped up on one fist. "Frankie, _I_ call _you_ baby. I've married you four times now. What in the hell makes you think there's anything you could say to earn an ass-kicking? Except, maybe, that you're kicking me out?"

"Four times?" Frank asked, pleased he had just been given permission to say pretty much anything he wanted. "I can think of two off the top of my head. Three if you're counting the courthouse." Dean nodded at him. "What's the fourth time?"

One warm hand ran slowly over his chest. "Frankie," Dean said in a gentle tone, "you already have my heart."

"I was dreaming," Frank protested. "Why does that count?"

"Because." Dean leaned in closer, nuzzling under Frank's jaw. "You were dreaming about us. It counts."

Frank might have had another protest, but the pressure of Dean's body against his, and the way he was feeling right now, shoved his rational brain right into neutral.

* * *

Sam pushed open the front door, a little concerned it was so quiet in the house. He held the door open for Dad and Caleb, one finger pressed against his lips. They nodded in acknowledgement as they passed him. Dad headed straight for the television. Since the demon beat the crap out of him, Dad had become addicted to television, especially watching sports. He had fully expected Liza's first word to be 'go'!

Dad turned on the set and flipped through the channels. He looked over at Caleb when he found something, and Caleb nodded. After depositing a fresh case of beer in the fridge, Sam took his laptop to his room to put away. He still hadn't gotten around to telling anyone but Serene about his job at the library. Sam hadn't mentioned even to her about his plans to get a degree in library science, either on-line or through the local college, he was still researching that part. Dean had a real life here, with a family. Sam wanted that too.

They had discussed the possibility of hunting again, locally, but not for a while. Sam guessed after what happened today, it could be quite a while. Dean refused to allow him to hustle anywhere close to town where he might be recognized, so Sam had to find a job if he wanted his own money. He couldn't live off of Frank and Serene forever, besides, he still had to pay Frank back for Serene's ring.

When Sam exited his bedroom he walked over to listen at the door to the master bedroom. He could hear the telltale bed-squeak of sex. Rolling his eyes, Sam dropped into the easy chair. Dad had a basketball game on.

"What was that about?" Caleb asked, leaning forward to talk over Dad and motioning to the closed bedroom door.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

Caleb glared at him. "What kind of nothing?"

Dad snorted. "The kind that's none of your damn business, Caleb. Now shut up."

Caleb sat back, but his gaze lingered on the bedroom door. It was almost as if he were...jealous? Nah. Wait. Maybe. Sam studied their old friend until Caleb's attention shifted to the game. Yeah, it was a definite maybe. Crap. Dean didn't need that too.

* * *

Frank swiped his tongue inside Dean's mouth as he thrust again, pleasure causing a roaring sensation in his ears. Their skin slid effortlessly against each other, slick with sweat. Hands were everywhere, arms wrapped around each other. Frank thrust again, amazed by how Dean felt, against and around him. Their stomachs were already coated from Dean's earlier orgasm, but his amazing spouse was still going strong. His wet heat pulsed around Frank and he couldn't remember anything feeling this good before. Of course, it wasn't like he could think about anything outside of their bed and Right Now.

Dean rolled them until he was on top, lifting up and thrusting down slowly. Frank wanted it faster and harder, but Dean stroked his cheek with one hand and Frank tried to relax and wait. He pumped on Frank with a slow intensity, until he laid down on Frank and suckling kisses trailed down his neck.

"De-e-ean," Frank whined, grabbing his ass with both hands in an attempt to thrust up. Dean's wet heat still pulsed around him, driving him out of his frigging mind.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Try again," he taunted.

"Please, baby," Frank pleaded in his ear.

Dean moaned, his body pressing impossibly closer. "Better." One strong hand slipped along Frank's side until it wormed its way under his ass. Dean lifted him up slightly on one side and Frank knew it was going to really get good now.

Starting slow and steady, Dean thrust down on him, the pace and intensity increasing with each thrust. Panting now, Frank held on to Dean's hips as he met the thrusts. When Dean's back arched and his eyes squeezed closed, Frank waited, feeling the muscles contracting around his dick. God, it was amazing. Unable to wait any longer, Frank flipped them and felt Dean's body start to relax as he took over. He was so damned close. A few hard, deep thrusts had Frank spilling deep within.

Still breathing hard, Frank rolled them back on their sides as he held Dean close using both arms.

"Promise me," Frank panted.

Dean squirmed in his hold until they could look into each other's eyes. "What?"

Frank regretted wanting to hear it, out loud, but he had to. "That no matter what, you'll always come home?"

"Oh, baby," Dean breathed with a sweet smile. "You'd have to kick me out."

Frank chuckled, holding him tight. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. "Ready to clean up?"

"Do you hear the television?" Dean asked, eyes straying to the door.

Frank planted a kiss to Dean's cheek. "You told them it was safe to come back."

Dean laughed softly, the vibrations transferring into Frank's skin. "Guess they know what we've been up to, then."

"Good." Frank rubbed his cheek against Dean's. "I don't really like the way you look at that Caleb guy."

Dean chuckled again, relaxing in to the bed but not releasing Frank. "Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about." Dean winked. "Sex god."

Frank rolled his eyes, but he did love hearing it.

* * *

Dean yawned as he stretched out on the bed, freshly showered. "I can't believe you're not tired. Don't you want a nap?"

Frank stroked a hand down Dean's chest. "I didn't just destroy the entire interior of a house. By myself."

"I wasn't by myself." Dean stifled a yawn as he stretched. He winced before lowering his arms. "Sure you don't mind if I stay in here?"

Frank leaned over for a quick kiss. "Take it easy, Babe. I'll go see what's going on. And if Liza wakes up, I'll come get her."

Dean rolled his eyes, but a smile flitted across his face. "You look sexy with wet hair. If Caleb hits on you, I'm kicking his ass."

Frank laughed. "Go to sleep, you nut."

"Wake Liza and die," Dean muttered, rolling on his side.

"Yes, dear." Frank whispered as he stood. He peeked behind Liza's curtain to see the baby sleeping soundly. It amazed him how she could sleep so hard, not that he was complaining, but it was difficult to tell if she was breathing sometimes.

"If you're worried, lick your palm and you can feel her breath," Dean said in a sleepy voice. "Or use a mirror."

Frank reached in slowly, resting his hand gently on Liza's chest. After waiting a moment, he could feel the soft rise and fall of her breathing. Relieved, Frank slowly lifted his hand. She didn't even move. Liza looked so sweet like this Frank hated to leave the room, but he had some business to take care of.

With a last look back at Dean, who might or might not be asleep, Frank pushed open their bedroom door. He closed it quietly behind him. John and Caleb were watching some game on the television and Sam's attention was on him.

Both of Sam's eyebrows lifted and his head jerked toward the back door. Frank nodded.

"How's Dean?" John asked, the sound from the television dying down.

"Tired," Frank admitted. "He wouldn't let the doctors check him out, but I think he's fine. Honestly, I wouldn't know how to tell if any ribs are broken."

John nodded seriously. "I'll take a look later," he promised, "after he's had some rest. You did convince him to clean up his face?"

Frank smiled at his father-in-law. "Yes, sir."

John nodded again as he turned to face the television and the sound came back up. Frank could have sworn he felt Caleb's eyes on him as he headed for the back door, which Sam was holding open. He took one of the beers his brother-in-law held as he passed outdoors. Frank dropped into the chair closest to the door, hoping he would be able to hear if Liza woke.

"So what's up?" Sam asked as he sat in the other chair.

Frank took a long swig of beer before attempting to answer. "Well," he said slowly, "actually, I'm kind of embarrassed to ask."

"Then let me guess," Sam replied, studying the beer bottle in his hand. "It's about Caleb?"

Frank nodded, his face heating with embarrassment. "I want you to know that I trust Dean," he said hurriedly.

Sam chuckled, waving off further protests. "Yeah, I can tell. Honestly, it took me a while to wrap my head around my brother in a monogamous relationship." A smile spread across Sam's face. "But it's nice, now that I'm used to it."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Frank mumbled, glad it was dark out to help hide the color in his face.

"I have an idea about Caleb. I've been thinking about it for the past hour or so." Sam said, much to Frank's surprise.

"You get rid of Caleb," Frank replied with a rush of relief, "and you can forget about trying to pay back Serene's ring."

Sam laughed at him. "No, I am paying you back. But, well, I think Caleb has overstayed his welcome."

Frank stuck out his hand. "Half? Dean'll kick my ass if I make you pay all of it back."

"You're not making me," Sam protested, but he shook Frank's hand. "Half sounds good, though. I can give it to you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Frank held on to Sam's hand. "How?"

Sam grinned, shaking him off and leaning back in the rickety chair. "That's when I get paid."

"Paid?" Frank stared at his brother-in-law. "Paid as in...you have a job? Is that what you've been doing when you're hiding out at the library?"

Sam's grin widened. "I'm working at the library. But I'm not ready to tell Dean or Dad yet."

Frank nodded slowly, though he didn't understand. "Well, okay, but you are going to tell at least Dean, right?"

Sam's hair flopped around as he nodded. "Yeah, I will. There's something I have to work out first, then I'll tell him."

"What?" Frank asked, his curiosity overriding his desire not to be too pushy.

Sam's grin returned. "I'm looking into something. Don't worry, it doesn't mean we'll be moving out of town."

"We?" Frank asked, really hoping Dean wasn't including in that 'we'.

"As in me and Serene," Sam said with a chuckle. "Geez, paranoid much, Frank?"

Frank shrugged, downing about half his beer. "So why have you been thinking about Caleb overstaying his welcome?"

Sam's head jerked toward the house. "Same as you, the way he looks at Dean."

Frank stared hard at his brother-in-law. "The way Caleb looks at Dean?" he asked slowly. "Not the way Dean looks at Caleb?"

Sam leaned forward, frowning. "What? How does Dean look at Caleb?"

Sam might be smart, but he wasn't terribly observant. "Like he's had a crush on Caleb since he was about fourteen."

Sam groaned, his head dipping down. "Frank, do me a favor? Anything else I missed from my childhood, let's just leave it there, all right?"

"I'll try," Frank offered. "But it seems like you've missed an awful lot."

A dark chuckle came from Sam as his head lifted. "And I'd like to keep it that way. But now I know how to get rid of Caleb, and Dean'll do it for us."

"How?" Frank demanded as he set his empty bottle down.

Sam shook his head, grinning. "Nope. Wait and see. That way you can't be blamed for it later." He chuckled again, this time it was lighter and happier. "Man, I've waited for years to get even with him. This is going to be beautiful."

Frank was suddenly very relieved Sam wasn't wanting to get even with him. He hoped it would work. Caleb being in the house now seemed like a really bad idea.


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

Dean stood in the yard barefoot in his jeans and shirt holding Liza and helping her wave "bye-bye" to Pop. She even tried blowing some kisses. Frank's beaming face as he drove off made it so worth it. Dean wondered if Frank would try coming home for lunch, so they could do it again today.

Chuckling to himself over the thought, Dean went back inside. Dad was still asleep, Frankie had the early shift today. Serene had the late shift, so Sam was sleeping in with her. Dean wondered briefly how much sleeping they were actually doing. Go, Sammy!

Caleb sat at the kitchen table drinking some of Frankie's coffee. "Good stuff," he said as Dean deposited Liza in her high chair.

"Good?" Dean snorted. "Best damn coffee I've ever tasted."

Caleb shrugged. "I've had better."

"Where?" Dean challenged as he selected Liza's breakfast. He prepared a little baby cereal with applesauce. She usually inhaled this stuff.

"Around," Caleb hedged.

Dean carried the small bowl over to the table and sat next to his daughter. Her mouth was already open in anticipation. Dean had to chuckle at her enthusiasm as he put the spoon in her mouth.

"Good eater?" Caleb asked.

"Gets that from me," Dean replied proudly. "Well, that's what Sam says."

Caleb chuckled. They sat in comfortable silence while Liza polished off her breakfast. After Dean washed off her sticky face, he lowered her to the floor. The little rugrat had been pulling up on pretty much everything lately, forcing Dean to baby-proof the entire house up to waist level. He brought a fresh cup of coffee to join Caleb at the table.

"Now that I think about it," Caleb said slowly, "I guess you always were a family man, huh?"

Dean sipped at his coffee. "Huh?"

Caleb gestured towards Sam's room. "The way you looked after your little brother. First time I laid eyes on you, you wouldn't let me within ten feet of Sam."

Dean chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, well, maybe I just didn't want competition," he teased.

Caleb's eyes sparkled as a grin tugged at his mouth. "There doesn't have to be competition, you know."

Dean's brow drew together as he stared at his old friend, who now seemed to be speaking in riddles. "Huh? What the hell are you talking about?"

A full blown grin erupted. "Remember when you invited me for that three-way?"

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. "Most embarrassing moment, remember? Do you have to keep bringing it up?"

Caleb leaned his forearms on the table, eyes sparkling in a way that made Dean feel just a bit nervous. "Well, I was thinking, Frank is probably better looking than that red-head."

Dean stared at Caleb. Hard. The dude had better not be implying what it sounded like he was implying. "Yeah. So?"

"Soooo..." Caleb's eyebrows danced a gig. "Come on, Dean. Don't tell me he's not kinky. He'd have to be."

"Which isn't any of your damn business," Dean snapped. "What's that got to do with my most embarrassing moment?" Caleb was about one word from having his ass kicked.

The grin dropped a little, but his dark eyes still sparkled. "Dean, I know how much you'd like to try a three-way. Think of this as – opportunity."

"What makes you think I haven't?" Dean demanded. He held up two fingers. "Blond. Twins. Doublemint."

"But with two guys?" Caleb asked in a taunting voice, as if Dean had been dreaming of it. Well, it sure sounded like Caleb had. Opportunity, huh? Opportunity for Caleb to get his damn hands on Frank. _His_ Frank. Oh hell no!

Dean set his mug carefully on the table. He looked Caleb square in the eye and spoke slowly, so he wouldn't be misunderstood. "I think you need to pack."

Caleb's eyes widened, but then he leaned back in his chair with a laugh. "Had me going there for a minute, Dean. So? You'll talk to him, right? I mean, this could turn into a regular thing, you know?"

He felt Liza's small fists grabbing his jeans. Dean's gaze dropped to watch her pull up to a shaky stand. When she felt steady a huge grin, Frankie's grin, spread across her face. He smiled back. Still smiling, Dean turned back to Caleb.

"If you don't pack," he said in an even calm voice so he wouldn't upset Liza, "I'm going to kick your ass from here to freaking Timbuktu."

Liza laughed and tugged on his jeans. Dean looked down to laugh back at her. "Isn't that right, Liza? He needs to pack now?"

She laughed again and babbled something along the lines of "da-ba-da-ba."

Dean nodded at her. "You tell him." At least by focusing on Liza, Dean was able to keep his temper in check. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Caleb stand and walk away from the table.

Regular thing? Was he freaking kidding? Yeah, so maybe Dean had hinted that Frankie might want to try something a little more 'out there.' Once. Maybe twice. Years ago. Right after they first met. Frankie had said NO, flat out, and Dean respected that answer. Besides, he had a good thing here with Frank, he wasn't about to mess this up with something stupid. Especially not with something stupid like Caleb.

He heard Dad come out of the front bedroom. His father walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee before speaking. "So. Caleb's leaving?"

Dean nodded, his gaze still pinned to Liza. Her face lit up at the sound of Dad's voice and she twisted around. The movement caused her to tilt off-balance and she landed hard on her diapered butt. Her face registered the unexpectedness of it, but then she smiled and babbled at them.

"Good thing those diapers are padded," Dean commented, the tension in his shoulders easing.

"You should've seen yourself at that age," Dad said with a grin. He slid into the chair next to Dean. "I think the only reason you learned to walk was so you could step on things."

"That was Sam," Dean replied, hearing the stiffness in his voice.

Dad shrugged at him. "Actually, I think you were both like that. So what's going on with Caleb?"

"It's time for him to hit the road," Dean replied. "Do you want to give him that file you've been saving?"

Dad gave him a guilty look. "You know about that?"

Dean shot his father a hard look. "Duh, Dad. You trained me, remember?"

Dad sighed, rubbing his hands on the outside of his mug. "I was kind of hoping the three of us could check it out."

Dean shook his head, refusing to take the very tempting bait. "Not yet, Dad. I'm not ready."

Dad's eyes widened as his head jerked up in surprise. "You're not ready?"

"Nope." Dean watched Liza head for her noisiest toy, the kitchen cabinets. "I don't want to miss any of this."

Bang! Liza laughed like a crazy little person, her blue eyes sparkling and her smile wide. Bang-bang!

"We could fix that," Dad offered.

Bang-bang-bang.

Dean chuckled as he glanced over. "Why?"

Dad shrugged. "To let Sam and Serene sleep in."

Bang-bang! Bang-bang!

Dean snorted. "Like they're sleeping.

Bang-bang, bang-bang!

Dad shook his head, sipping his coffee. "So, you're not saying no because you don't think I'm ready?"

"Nope," Dean replied easily, grinning at his father. He could lie to Dad, it wasn't too hard.

"You are going to think I'm ready at some point?" Dad asked.

"Probably before I am," Dean admitted. "But you're not going without me," he informed his father sternly.

Dad considered that as he drank his coffee. "Okay," he finally said. "I'll give the file to Caleb before he leaves. Any idea why he's leaving?"

"It's time," Dean replied, trying to maintain that even tone he had earlier.

"Uh-huh." Dad stood, taking his coffee cup with him. "Back in few."

Dad disappeared into the front bedroom. Liza pulled back up on his leg. Dean maneuvered her into holding his fingers while she stood. One foot lifted and set back down tentatively as she balanced on the other foot. Clearly she wasn't ready to take a real step yet, which was perfectly fine with Dean. He didn't want her growing up too fast, she was too much fun right now.

He heard someone exit the front bedroom and go out the front door. Dad rejoined him at the table.

"He's going to come back in to say goodbye," Dad informed him.

Dean shrugged. Liza released his fingers, wobbling for a moment in her stand before landing on her butt again. She held her hands up to Dad, "da-eee!"

"That's grand-da-eee," Dad said as he picked her up. Liza laughed again in his arms. This was the kind of thing Dean lived for these days. Where was Frankie's camera anyway?

"You gave him the file?" Dean asked. He had been wondering how to talk Dad out of that hunt. Dad nodded, pretending to eat Liza's fingers which delighted her no end.

The front door opened again, admitting Caleb. He walked slowly into the kitchen.

"Uh, well, guess I'm out of here. Will you thank Frank for the bed?" Caleb asked uncertainly. Dean gave him a stiff nod. "And tell Sam I said bye?"

"No problem," Dad replied, watching them a little too intently.

"Call you in a couple of weeks?" Caleb asked, sounding slightly pitiful. Dean glared at him. "In a couple of months?"

He might have preferred a couple of years, but Dean nodded anyway. It had been nice having Caleb around the past few days and they had been friends for years. He would hate to lose that again.

"Plan on staying at the motel next time you're in town," Dean warned. He wanted no misunderstandings next time.

Caleb offered him a grin. "Sure, no problem. It was good seeing all of you again," he said, but he was looking only at Dean.

"Later," Dean told him, not rising to the bait.

"Later." Caleb walked slowly out the door.

"Am I ever going to find out what that was about?" Dad asked after the front door closed behind Caleb.

Dean shook his head. "Hope not."

Dad made more popping noises at Liza. "Hear that? Daddy thinks he's keeping secrets. So what happened out here?"

Liza burst out in a loud babbling which lasted at least a minute. Dean watched in amazement, only realizing when she was winding down that it would've made for some great video. Damn it. Frankie would be at work when he needed him.

* * *

Sam slipped back in to bed with Serene, curling up with her.

"What?" she asked in a sleepy voice. "Everything okay?"

"Mmm-hmmm," he hummed in to her neck. "Fine." Sam wrapped an arm around her, resting his hand on her breast. He had had enough sleep.

"What was it?" she asked, leaning back on him.

Sam pressed closer to her, gently massaging her breast. "Caleb left."

"Mmmm," she responded. "Don't know why your family likes him. He's a creep."

"He's a good guy," Sam replied, rubbing his cheek against hers. "But he can be a creep."

Sam snaked his hand down, under the large t-shirt she wore. He pushed it up until her breasts were exposed.

"Did he hit on you?" Sam asked as he shifted so she could lay flat. Then he gently circled her nipple with his tongue.

Serene made a small gasping noise, and it was such a turn-on. "Y-yeah." Her hands grabbed his head, holding him in place.

"What'd you do?" Sam asked, pausing to look up at her.

Her hands tried to push his head back down, but Sam wanted her answer first. Her beautiful brown eyes opened to meet his gaze. "I slapped him, but he wouldn't back off until I threatened to tell you about it."

Sam smiled at her as he lowered his mouth again. He tongued her nipple until it peaked with interest, then he sucked it into his mouth. When her breathing became labored, he switched to the other breast. Sam had discovered, mainly by accident, that he could bring Serene to orgasm simply by working her breasts, and he was happy to do it. He fondled the breast not in his mouth, very gently tweaking the nipple, until her back arched and she rubbed her groin against his chest.

Cue taken, Sam kissed rapidly down her chest and stomach. He noticed her underwear was nice and wet as he pulled them off.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," she breathed in a relentless litany, and his cock twitched inside his briefs in response, but it wasn't time yet.

Sam caressed her thighs, spreading her open. Her clit stood upright, her entire sex aroused and flushed with color. Sam placed his lips over her clit, sucking gently at first. The hands in his hair turned into tight fists holding him there. He sucked harder, until her back arched again and she ground herself against his mouth. Sam released her, pulling back to observe her current state. A light sheen of sweat covered her skin, Serene breathed heavily, and there was a spreading wet spot on the sheets below her pussy.

He kicked off his briefs as he climbed over her. Covering her smaller body entirely, Sam pressed into her hot, wet, pulsing vagina with a gasp. God, it was going to be difficult not to come right away.

"Sa-a-am," Serene whined, both legs raising to wrap around his waist. He really didn't need any encouragement. Sam thrust deep but slow, and her body responded in the most exciting ways. Wonderful little noises escaped from her mouth and throat. She clutched him tightly, her back arching whenever she felt particularly good. Serene ground against him on each thrust, her hips swiveling and all possibility of logical thought disappeared.

Then she pulled him down on her, until her lips reached his ear. "Now, Sammy."

Oh, god! Sam thrust hard and deep, her demand pushing him right over the edge. He pumped his release out within her while Serene's body pulsed and writhed with pleasure.

When he was finished, Sam rolled off of her to lay beside her. Serene rolled into him, her sweaty body pressing against his side. Sam wrapped an arm around her to hold her close.

"Thanks, Sweetie," he told her.

Serene gave him a beaming smile. "It was that good?"

Sam grinned back. "Yeah, but that's not what I meant. You just won me five bucks."

Serene pushed up to look him in the eye. "For what?"

"I bet if Caleb came on to you, you'd slap him. Dad said you'd bury him, if he was lucky," Sam explained.

"And Dean?" she demanded.

Sam frowned, trying to remember. "I think it was something along the lines of going down in flames, but I wasn't sure what he meant by that."

She smiled sweetly, resting again along his side. "I think I'm getting some really good in-laws," she told him.

Sam chuckled, running a hand along her sweaty side. "I'm glad you think so. Am I ever going to meet this mysterious sister of yours?"

The smile dropped from her face as she shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't heard from her in over a year."

"I'm sorry," he said gently, leaning in to capture her in a soft kiss. "But I had an idea about the wedding."

The smile reappeared. "What?"

Sam returned her smile. "Well, unless you just want to have it here, we can go to Jim's. He could perform the ceremony in his church, just us and whoever we want to take with us." He ran his fingers through her hair. "We can stay in this small cabin Jim owns, it's on a lake, nice and secluded."

Serene sighed at him, all smiles. "Sounds wonderful."

"You talked to Jim already, right?" she asked. Sam nodded and she giggled. "I thought so. I want Dean, Frank and your dad there."

Sam nodded again. "Anyone else?"

Serene shrugged, resting against him. "I'll think about it."

"You do know I'll do anything you want?" he asked as he hugged her. "It's your day."

Serene giggled again. "Our day, Sammy. And yeah, I know."

* * *

Dean gave him a pointed look as they heard a long, drawn-out moan from Sam's room.

"I don't hear anything," John protested, focusing on Liza. "Nothing except my Lizzie." He remembered his promise to Frank last night. John shifted his gaze to his eldest. "Take off your shirt."

Dean's eyes rolled. "Oh, come on, Dad. I'm fine."

John frowned. "That wasn't a request, son. I promised Frank."

With a huff, Dean pulled off his shirt. His chest was covered with odd-shaped bruises in purples and reds, but none appeared particularly bad.

"How's the shoulder?" John demanded, motioning for Dean to stand as he shifted Liza in to one arm.

Dean's eyes rolled upward, but he went through a full range of motion exercises with both arms. "Happy?" he asked in a snarky tone when he finished.

"Not yet." John stood. Using his free hand, he prodded and poked his son's torso until he was satisfied nothing was broken. Liza insisted on helping, her small hands making slapping sounds against Dean's skin. "Okay, you can put it back on. I'll tell Frank nothing's broken."

Dean's head shook as he resumed sitting, pulling his shirt back on. "Gee, thanks."

John caught his son's eye. "Considering everything, son, I think this is the very least I can do for him."

A grin slid on to Dean's face. "Starting to like him again, aren't you?"

John snorted, setting Liza back down on the floor before she could worm her way out of his grip. "I'm not sure I ever stopped."

"You were giving him some pretty nasty looks when you were in the hospital," Dean pointed out.

John glared hard at his son. "Just because I couldn't remember exactly who he was doesn't mean I stopped liking him."

Dean gave him an odd look. "What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

John shrugged, studying the coffee in his hands. He cleared his throat a couple of times, not really wanting to explain himself.

"Dad?" Dean asked gently, in the tone John had such a damned hard time turning down.

"It means," he said slowly, gaze pinned to the thin stream of steam rising from his coffee, "that I remembered there was someone special in your life, just not who."

"And once you figured out who?" Dean prompted.

John lifted the coffee to take a sip. "Then I knew I had to like him."

Bang-bang! Liza's laughter filled the kitchen. Bang!

"Why?"

Dean appeared puzzled when John looked at him. "Because you do."

The puzzled expression faded as a warm smile replaced it. His son radiated with a warmth and happiness which could not be faked. Dean set about scrambling some eggs for breakfast, which John thought should have been more difficult than it appeared with Liza clinging to his legs.

After the scent of cooked eggs filled the room, Sam and Serene exited their room looking more rested than they had a right to, considering. They sat side-by-side at the table. Sam studied his brother filling plates with egg and toast.

"What's up?" he asked with a smile. "You look pretty happy this morning, Dean."

Dean shrugged as he handed over two plates. When he went back for the last two plates, Sam shot John a quizzical look. John shrugged and played innocent, as if he had no idea why Dean was so happy.

Dean sat next to John. An easy grin spread over his face as he scooped up some egg on his fork. Before he could shovel the egg into his face, Liza pulled up on his leg.

"da-da-da-da-da!"

Dean's grin broadened into a full smile. He knocked most of the egg off before offering a small yellow-white chunk to her. Liza chewed it toothlessly, her expression shifting from pleased to concentrating then sour. She swallowed. With one open hand, she patted Dean's leg again.

"da-da-da!"

"You already ate," Dean teased, holding out more egg for her. Liza kept her mouth open for far longer than necessary, but she got her egg and chewed thoughtfully again, this time without the sour face. She waved one hand up for Dean to pick her up. Before he could position her in his lap, Liza reached a chubby hand out for the mound of scrambled eggs on his plate. Holding Liza upright with one hand and his fork in the other, Dean reached around her to scoop up some egg for himself.

"Guess she's ready for table food, huh?" Dean said around a mouthful of egg as Liza proceeded to make a mess of his plate and her face.

John broke off a large piece of toast and held it out to his granddaughter. She grasped it in one hand. While she studied it intently, Dean managed to eat most of the remaining egg on his plate. Liza shoved it in her mouth to gnaw on toothlessly while Sam and Serene watched, apparently fascinated. He really hoped they were planning on kids.


	58. Chapter 58

Okay, I know it's been a while. Sorry about that! No, nobody died. I could blame Real Life, but really it's just me. To make up for it, posting the next chapter at the same time as this one, and I've been saving it. I think maybe it'll make the wait worth it.

Chapter 58

When Frank's cell went off, he had not been expecting his father-in-law to call. Concerned, Frank hit the button to accept the call, waving off the new employee in training.

"John? What's up?" Frank asked, trying to keep his voice casual as his overactive imagination created all kind of terrible scenarios.

"Dean's fine," John's voice boomed at him. Frank let out the breath he had been holding. "I checked him over before breakfast. I didn't want you to worry, so I figured I'd call."

"Thanks," Frank replied. Had he asked John to check Dean out? Frank vaguely recalled Dean's father offering last night. His racing heart began to settle, but he felt a little light-headed, so Frank leaned on the double-wide luxury refrigerator he had been showing to the new salesperson.

"Frank?" John sounded concerned now. "You did want me to call, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did," Frank replied, running a hand down his face. He was going to have to remember these kinds of things, unless he wanted to give himself a stroke. John never forgot when it concerned his sons' health. "Anything else going on?"

"Liza likes scrambled eggs," John said with a chuckle. "Dean's threatening to make 'em for dinner too, so you can watch."

The tension in Frank's shoulders washed away. "That'd be great. Tell Dean I'm going home for lunch today."

"Will do," John promised. "See you then."

"Bye." With a deep breath, Frank slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Maybe I need therapy," he mumbled to himself. "I'm too jumpy."

"Maybe."

Frank spun around. His employee-in-training stood off to one side. She grinned at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Frank glared at her. "Then don't sneak up on me."

"Won't happen again, Mister Warren," she promised, one hand up in the air. Her hand lowered slowly. "Bad phone call?"

"Nah," Frank replied with a shake of his head. "Just my father-in-law. Wanted to tell me Liza likes scrambled eggs."

"Liza is the baby, right?" she asked with a smile. "I saw your picture in the paper."

"You and everybody else," Frank replied agreeably. "Ready to get back to work? I have an anniversary weekend to plan."

–

"So which anniversary do you celebrate?" Sam asked, staring across the back patio at Frank.

"The first one," Frank replied simply. Sam motioned for more information. "The one when Dean started wearing the silver thumb ring, his real ring, all the time."

"Oh." Sam nodded at Frank. "That was when he told you to ask him, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Frank replied slowly. "He told you about that?"

Sam nodded with a grin. "I really thought it would've been the other way around. Uh, no offense."

Frank shook his head. "None taken. I guess Dean is a bit more...take charge." He returned Sam's grin. "It wasn't like I wouldn't ask him after he told me to, though. He probably would've kicked my ass."

Sam chuckled as he lifted his beer to take a long swig. "Maybe," Sam replied with a shrug as he lowered the brown bottle. "Dunno. Dean doesn't like hurting people he cares about." Then Sam chuckled. "Wish he'd decked that Cassie bitch though."

Frank couldn't believe it. Was Sam actually siding with him? Over a woman? Wow. Things had really changed. He felt kind of warm all over.

"Actually, the way he handled that was pretty classy," Frank informed his brother-in-law. "Dean introduced me as his partner."

Sam made a sour face. "She probably assumed you worked together."

Frank beamed. "She asked that, and I really didn't care for the way she said 'worked'." He chuckled a little. "Dean just said 'no', like she was the dumbest person on the face of the planet. God, I wanted to give him a big squishy hug right then and there."

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah? How did that work out?"

"It didn't," Frank replied. "I didn't have the guts. I think I could've gotten away with it, though."

Now Sam grinned broadly. "Probably so. Look, there was a reason I asked you out here."

"I figured," Frank said. He hoped it wasn't about the wedding. Even though lately Serene had amazingly supportive of Dean, Frank was still having trouble wrapping his head around her marrying Sam. He thought Sam could do better.

"Well, it's probably obvious Dean's going to be my best man," Sam began. Frank nodded, unsure where this could be heading. "Serene is going to ask you herself, but I didn't want it to come out of left field."

Frank stared at his brother-in-law for a moment. "Ask me what?"

"Well, her sister still isn't speaking to her, and she doesn't have a whole lot of female friends..." Sam began.

"You want me to track down her sister?" Frank asked in disbelief. "I'm sure you'd be a whole lot better at that than I would."

Sam's brow furrowed and the smile dropped away. "Uh, no." He ran his long fingers through his shaggy hair. "I meant that Serene is going to ask you to be her best man."

Frank felt his mouth open a couple of times, but no sound came out. Finally he managed a "Huh?"

Sam frowned deeply. "Yeah, I was afraid of this. Serene is hoping you'll stand up for her at the wedding. You don't have to, but honestly, you were her first choice."

"Me?" He stared in disbelief at his brother-in-law. "Why me?" And why was his voice all high and squeaky?

"Well," Sam said slowly, "for starters, you're probably her best friend. I know you two had a falling out a few years ago over some guy she grew up with, but I thought you were both over that now?"

"Some guy?" Frank demanded. "You do know who that guy was?"

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, Frank. And if weren't for the fact he's psycho, I might still not know I have a brother-in-law."

Frank made a face at Sam. "I'd love to hear how you think Dean would've explained away the last year, and the baby."

Sam laughed at him. "Okay, you got me there. Look, Frank, please, just think about it? I love it if both of you were up there with us."

"Really." He stared into Sam's eyes, which were eerily similar to Dean's. "You want me up there too?"

Sam nodded at him. "Yeah. I do." Either Sam was a hell of an actor, or he meant it.

"Well," Frank replied slowly as he relaxed back into the lawn chair, "I can't exactly say no to that, now can I?"

When Sam's beaming smile erupted, Frank could see why Dean had such a difficult time saying no to his brother. It looked like Frank had fallen in the same trap.

When they went inside, Dean had a small plate of scrambled eggs ready for Liza. Frank sat next to the high chair with his grilled chicken salad to watch. John had been downplaying it; Liza eating eggs was a riot!

"Is it this weekend?" John asked once Dean had wiped down Liza's face and turned her loose on the floor.

"Better believe it," Frank answered readily with a huge smile. He had been looking forward to this ever since Dean had agreed to their 'special' celebration.

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to know."

"Probably not," Sam agreed with a chuckle. "I know I'm not asking."

–

With Liza dropped off at his sister's house, Dean drove them out to Frank's favorite bed-and-breakfast place. They only had a small overnight bag for clothes, since they wouldn't be needing many, and another two other bags for the costumes. Frank had his video equipment in his bag and Dean's was freaking heavy, though all his spouse would do was smile when he asked about it.

Oh, this was going to be great! Frank felt a little guilty at 'abandoning' Liza, but honestly he was so excited his little brain was overriding anything his big brain had to say about it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his imagination conjuring up images of real-life Dean wearing the awesome leather gladiator costume he had found.

"Relax, baby," Dean said with a laugh over the music. One hand rubbed along Frank's thigh, causing his pants to bulge. "We'll be there soon."

"I don't know if I can wait," Frank admitted.

Dean withdrew his hand and shook his head. "You can wait. This is what you wanted, so there is no way I'm going to ruin it for you."

Frank toyed with the idea of giving Dean a blowjob while driving, but to be honest, it would probably just make the wait harder on him. So Frank split his attention between the view outside and Dean's gorgeous profile while he allowed his imagination to run positively wild.


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Dean could not believe he agreed to this stupid dress-up anniversary thing of Frankie's, but as long as he had, he figured he might as well make the most of it. He even brought a couple of dumbbells to kind of heighten the effect of his moronic costume.

The first thing he did was shoo Frankie off to the bathroom to change, and stay there until called.

"Pretend you're watching some gladiator match," he ordered as he reached out to open the bathroom door.

Frankie grinned wide. "I have some movies for later."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "Gladiator flicks?" he demanded, not quite believing it.

Frankie's head shook and his smile widened. He pulled their video camera out of his bag. "It's blank," he said. "I don't want to miss a second of this."

Dean took it out of his hands and shoved him toward the bathroom. "Don't come out until I say you can," he ordered.

"Yes, dear," Frankie called out over his shoulder.

Dean stared at the video camera. Crap. Him in this stupid costume was going into Frankie's porno hall of fame. If Liza ever found Frankie's videos... He shook his head. They were so buying a safe for their closet.

Dean started by stripping down to his underwear and taking out the leather costume. It would not leave much to the imagination, he decided as he turned it around. Not much at all. As a matter of fact, it had a freaking removable panel, so he could conceivably leave it on during sex, which Frankie ought to love. Great. Ah, well. The things he did to keep his spouse happy.

Dean froze for a second, not really having thought it through before. Husband, he thought to himself. Frankie was his husband. Partner, Dean decided, was much better. Frankie liked using partner and spouse, mainly spouse. Dean dropped to the floor for a dozen push-ups. Fine, he decided as he finished the set, partner and spouse worked for him, too. He checked himself out in the mirror. Nope, still not good enough.

Using the dumbbells to pump himself up, Dean watched the mirror for his muscles to bulge. Better. He set them down for some fast squats before returning to his bag. He took out a bottle of body oil. Damn, Frankie would probably like this part. He chewed his lower lip in indecision, but only for a moment. He set up the camera to record the rest of his preparations. Using a generous amount of oil, Dean rubbed it up and down his arms and over his shoulders and chest. Standing in front of the mirror, he got as much of his back as he could.

"How much longer?" Frankie called out from the bathroom.

"Few more minutes," Dean shouted back. "Let in the lions."

Frankie's laugh echoed in the small bathroom. Dean shook his head, grinning, as he poured some of the oil over his thigh. He worked it in all down his legs. Now when he looked in the mirror, his muscles really stood out. Much more gladiator-like, he decided. He picked up the dumbbells for a couple more sets, just to be sure. Then he took off his underwear, still standing in front of the mirror.

With a frown, Dean realized the skin which was underneath was not nice and shiny like the rest of him. Shrugging, he poured out a little more oil to run over his buttocks and groin area. He stared for a moment at his growing erection. Ah, hell, why not? He rubbed some along his sensitive length. Oh, man, that felt damned good. He oiled himself up pretty well, casting a guilty glance at the bathroom door. He'd better get freaking dressed.

The first layer was just leather straps, from inside his upper legs to over his shoulders. There was a front leather piece, over his chest, but it didn't cover much. Next Dean removed the panel before wrapping the leather skirt-thing around him. He checked himself in the mirror again. Damn, all he needed was a little longer hair and a sword and shield. Hell, he could pull it off with just a sword.

"Are the lions dead yet?" he asked, moving the camera to a better position, where it could capture most of the room.

"Only if my warrior is ready for his reward," Frankie replied, his voice echoing as Dean placed himself directly in front of the bathroom door, legs spread slightly in what he thought was a warrior stance.

"I didn't think the reward was for me," he teased. Oh, right, he was some kind of slave warrior, right? Dean dropped down to one knee and bowed his head submissively. "Come on out." Dean grinned to himself. "Master."

The sharp intake of breath from behind the door told him he had hit that one perfectly. Frankie and his freaking dreams. He heard the door open and Dean lifted his head slowly. Frankie's jaw hung slack and his eyes bugged out. Dean couldn't help the grin seeping into his face. Frankie was wearing some kind of toga, basically a cream colored dress with one arm and most of his chest bare. Awesome. At least he knew this video would never be shown to another living soul.

Frankie held out the bare arm and motioned for Dean to stand. It was like he couldn't speak. Dean rose slowly to his feet, really enjoying making Frankie speechless. Frankie's hand moved in a slow circle, asking him to turn around. Dean turned slowly in place, flexing his muscles as he did.

"Your first desire?" Dean asked, stepping within touching distance. "Master?"

Frankie was breathing really hard now. Dean looked between them and saw Frankie's toga tented with his erection. He brushed the toga from Frankie's shoulder and it fell to pool around the big guy's ankles. As expected, he was completely naked underneath.

"Shall I please you?" Dean asked in the low voice he knew Frankie couldn't turn down. Frankie swallowed hard and nodded.

Dean began not with Frankie's mouth or face, but with his collarbone. He sucked at Frankie's smooth skin, leaving small red welts in his wake as he made his way down. When he came to the stomach, Dean paused to run his tongue around the rim of Frankie's bellybutton, then thrust hard within. Frankie groaned, hands on his shoulders encouraging him further down. Dean obliged, this was Frankie's kink after all. He moved down to kneel and take Frankie's cock in his mouth. He let Frankie thrust hard and deep, bruising the back of his throat, as strong hands gripped his shoulders tightly. Dean sucked hard and hummed when it occurred to him. It did not take long, soon Frankie was spilling down his throat. Dean sucked it down, only releasing Frankie when he was certain his amazing lover was done.

Looking up, Dean saw Frankie panting and trickles of sweat running down his face. He grinned, because they were only just getting started.

"Master," he said roughly, his throat a little sore. Dean stood slowly, rising to be face-to-face with Frankie. "Shall I please you?" he repeated.

Frankie kissed him hard and deep, his tongue reaching in to taste himself in Dean's mouth. Submissively Dean allowed himself to be moved to the bed, their kiss not breaking until their legs bumped the bed. Frankie reached under his leather skirt to run his hand appreciatively up and down his length.

"Yes," he whispered, staring Dean in the eye. "You always please me." His hand tightened as he stroked Dean again. "I doubt we'll even need lube."

Dean shrugged. "There's plenty of oil. I'm sure they used something like it back then."

Frankie's broad grin spread. "I don't suppose you bought the kind that warms up?"

Dean chuckled at him, shoving him on the bed. "Kinky bastard."

Frankie was in position when he returned to the bed, oil in hand. Dean ran his hands appreciatively over Frankie's back before getting to work. He glanced over at the camera, noticing Frankie had shifted it so it was centered on the bed now. Really kinky bastard.

"Want a massage first?" Dean asked, popping the bottle open.

Frankie's head shook. "Can't wait," he panted. "Hurry up."

Dean dribbled oil down the crack of Frankie's ass and over his fingers. He worked Frankie open, surprised at just how slick this stuff was. Dean added more to his dick before pushing slowly inside. He waited for permission to move. When Frankie nodded, Dean thrust slowly in and out. The oil may have been slick, but it worked into the skin unlike the lube. Dean stopped twice to add more oil, each time making Frankie gasp when he pushed back in. Actually, this was fun, Dean had to admit. The stupid leather skirt was in the way, but he managed to work around it, not wanting to destroy Frankie's fun.

When he could no longer go at a slow and steady pace, Dean leaned down to Frankie's ear. "Gonna lose it," he whispered. Then, a little louder for the camera, "Master, may I come now?"

"God, yes," Frankie moaned.

The sound of Frankie's voice, the raw want in his moan, shot desire through him. Dean pumped and thrust hard until they were both moaning and groaning. Sex was a lot quieter for them these days, thanks to not wanting to wake Liza, but Dean wanted some of the old days tonight. He was so close, too close, but he wanted Frankie to make those porn movie sounds first. Dean shifted his angle of thrust slightly, hitting Frankie's prostate a little differently, and the noises he made were freaking perfect. Frankie gasped, clutching the bedsheets in both hands as his ass rose in the air. Dean thrust erratically as his orgasm ripped through him.

He fell to Frankie's side, breathing heavy. Frankie turned over to rest his head on Dean's shoulder.

"Ready for round two?" Frankie asked, one hand running across Dean's sweaty abdomen.

Dean chuckled. "I never thought I'd say this, but how about a break?"

Frankie grinned at him. He lifted up to grab the remote for the camera and turn it off. Frankie set it back down to hold him tight. "How about a shower?" he asked.

Dean ran a hand through Frankie's sweat damp hair. "Didn't I ask for a break?"

"Just a shower," Frankie promised. "Besides, water and cameras don't really go well together."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

The water was nice and hot, and Frankie kept his promise, but that didn't make the shower any less erotic. Frankie insisted on washing him all over, sudsy soap rubbed over every square inch of his skin. Dean reveled in the attention. Then it was Frankie's turn. Dean enjoyed washing Frankie almost as much as he enjoyed Frankie washing him. Those muscles rippled under his touch, especially in Frankie's shoulders as he showed off. Dean chuckled, pressing up against Frankie's back. He kissed the back of the muscular neck, feeling Frankie's body shiver despite the heat of the water. Frankie's head turned to return the kiss.

"Still have a surprise for you," Frankie murmured. "When we're done here."

Dean released him. "Then let's go." He swatted at Frankie's tight ass. "Master."

As Dean dried off, he noticed Frankie frowning at him. "What?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"

"Your skin." Frankie ran a soft hand over his shoulder. "It's not shiny any more." He almost sounded like he was pouting.

Dean shrugged. "It was the body oil. I can put some more on, if you want."

Frankie's body crowded close. "Can I do it for you?" he asked in his bedroom voice.

Dean grinned at him. "Sure, Baby. You bet. But what about my surprise?"

Frankie grabbed a complimentary robe from the back of the door to hand over. Dean wrapped himself in it before following Frankie, wearing a matching robe, back out into the room. Frankie motioned for Dean to get in bed as he rifled through the separate bag he had packed.

"Here it is!" Frankie said triumphantly as he held up a DVD. Dean rolled his eyes. More porn.

"I thought this was supposed to be about us?" Dean complained. "Now we're going to watch dudes getting all freaky with each other?"

"Not exactly," Frankie replied with a grin as he popped it into the player. He brought the remote control to bed, landing next to Dean with a hard bounce. "This is something I've been working on."

Something he had been working on? Intrigued, Dean settled into the pillows and against Frankie's side. Frankie made him sit up to wind an arm around his shoulders. It wasn't as comfortable, but it was much nicer as he snuggled up, that he would admit it out loud.

"Here we go," Frankie said and Dean could hear the excitement in his voice. With his head resting against the side of Frankie's chest, Dean directed his attention to the television.

Their room, the one they were in right now, appeared on the screen. What the hell? As Dean stared, he saw Frankie go to the door and open it, grab the man standing outside and force him in. Frankie pressed the man against the wall, kissing him fervently. Suddenly Dean realized the other man was him, and this was their rendezvous during the time he was on the road with Sam. He didn't remember Frankie having a camera that time.

Dean pressed his body closer as he watched themselves getting half-naked. Yeah, he had a nice body back then. Well, hell, it wasn't too bad now. Sure, there were a few stretch marks on his hips and upper thighs, but at least they weren't across his stomach. Frankie called them his battle scars.

On the television, Frankie carried them over to the bed and the camera angle switched. Dean looked up at Frankie. "Two cameras?" he demanded.

Frankie rubbed a hand along his back. "Dude, I was here for two hours before you arrived. I had plenty of time to set things up."

Dean chuckled as he threw a leg over Frankie's leg. "Kinky bastard."

"I'm a kinky bastard?" Frankie demanded in a teasing voice. "Just wait a minute." He motioned to the screen.

Dean watched Frankie giving him a blow job and finger job at the same time, until he threw his head back and his body shuddered with climax. Then Frankie pulled his jeans all the way off before finally disrobing. Frankie climbed over him.

This wasn't the first time Frankie had videoed them, or the first time they'd watched, but to Dean's knowledge this was the first video he had not known was being made. Dean could see how anxious he had been that day, how much he had wanted to be with Frankie, how he had missed sex. It was evident in their almost frenzied love-making. When he watched himself going down on Frankie, thrusting harder and harder until the headboard banged against the wall, Dean rubbed his crotch against Frankie's hip.

"Your kinky part is coming up," Frankie informed him, rubbing his hip against Dean.

After an intense, almost pained, expression came over his face and the anxious, erratic thrusts slowed, Frankie flipped them so he was on top. Then Frankie pumped hard into Dean until he came again, forcing Frankie to orgasm with him. Frankie collapsed on top of Dean, falling asleep.

"Here it is," Frankie said excitedly, clearly enjoying himself. Both arms held Dean tight as the image on the screen flashed briefly where Frankie had cut out however long they had been asleep. Dean's eyes opened and he smiled. His hips moved under Frankie. Then his legs wrapped around Frankie's waist and thrust harder. Frankie moaned in his sleep. Dean turned them on their sides to thrust slowly against Frankie until he moaned again. Then Dean moved more, harder, and nibbled along Frankie's jaw.

Frankie on the screen moaned, "Oh, babe," as he began thrusting back harder. His hands gripped Dean's ass as his thrusts picked up in intensity until he came with a shudder. Frankie's eyes fluttered open. "Real?" he asked. "Not a dream?"

"Took advantage of me," Frankie said, squishing him.

Dean planted some wet kisses along Frankie's neck. "Might do it again while we're here," he murmured.

"Mmmm," Frankie moaned. "Want to watch the next part? It's kind of what we just did."

Dean settled back against Frankie's shoulder. "Did you get any of the next morning? That funky thing you wanted to try?"

Frankie chuckled as he fast-forwarded through Dean giving him a sound screwing. He set it back to normal play when they were both back on the bed, Frankie on his back and Dean kneeling beside him.

"Have you been reading Penthouse again?" Dean demanded. "The letters section?"

Frankie's huge grin appeared. "I'm not telling."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he crawled over Frankie, facing his feet. Frankie held his dick up for Dean to go down on. Once Frankie was fully seated inside Dean, he spread his legs a little. Dean inserted his own hard cock between the legs and Frankie squeezed them closed. Dean shut his eyes as he began to move up and down experimentally. After a few thrusts, he clearly had the hang of this new position and thrust up and down, hard. Soon the headboard knocked against the wall.

"Good thing you had the next room rented too," Dean said with a chuckle. "I had no idea we made this much noise."

Frankie rubbed a hand along his back and side as he grunted in agreement, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Here's the good part," he whispered.

Dean chuckled to himself as he watched Frankie on the screen prop himself up on his elbows and start to thrust using his entire lower body. Dean made some really embarrassing sounds then, noises porn movies tried to simulate but often couldn't match in volume or pure pleasure. They kept doing that until Dean came, both ways and hard as he recalled. Then he laid prone on Frankie's legs, breathing hard. Frankie waited a moment before rolling them both over. Then Frankie carefully moved off of Dean before crawling up beside him. Frankie gently pulled Dean on to his chest, stroking his hair and whispering in his ear. After a long moment, Dean pulled Frankie's head down to kiss him, one of those long, oxygen deprived kisses.

"Mmm," Dean murmured against Frankie's chest. "That was a good part." He directed Frankie's hand under his robe. "Getting me worked up," he said as Frankie grasped his half-hard cock.

"There's more," Frankie promised.

"From that time, or others? Anything else I didn't know you were filming?" he asked as Frankie's hand left him for the remote.

"A few," Frankie said evasively.

Dean chuckled. "You're incorrigible. What, do you have a secret camera set up in our room or something?"

Frankie shook his head. "It's always in the same spot, so you just don't notice any more. I turn it on when I don't think you're expecting it." Frankie kissed him on the top of the head. "I needed something to do when you were out working."

Dean lifted his head to glare at Frankie. "How far back do these go?" he demanded.

Frankie grinned. "I wish I had some from the first time we met, your sex beach vacation." He sighed, shaking his head. "But I do have one from your first visit back. I was afraid you might not come again, so I made damn sure to video it."

"Is that on here?" Dean asked, curious.

Frankie lifted the remote to skip through several scenes. "Wish I could convince you to let me film us at the pond. I still have dreams about that."

"In between tropical beaches and Roman gladiators?" Dean asked.

Frankie chuckled. He finally stopped on a scene of the two of them naked in the master bedroom at the house. Dean watched younger versions of themselves exploring each other's bodies, fingertips moving slowly and erotically over skin. Then hot mouths replaced the roving hands. There was something about one of their early encounters, the excitement clear in their expressions and movements. Dean wanted Frankie. Now.

He surged up, catching Frankie by surprise as he attacked that big mouth. Dean felt Frankie scrabbling for the video remote, so he pulled away.

"You know," he said suggestively, "we could oil each other up." He pressed his body down on Frankie. "That should make for some movie magic." Dean waggled his eyebrows.

Frankie grinned. "You grab the oil, I'll set up the camera."

Dean chuckled, rolling off the bed. He dropped his robe to go stand in front of the dresser and the mirror with the bottle of body oil. Frankie scrambled with the camera. When he had it the way he wanted it, he reached for the DVD remote.

"Leave it on," Dean instructed, watching Frankie's eyes light up. "It's hot."

His reward for the high praise was Frankie's widest grin. Frankie dropped his robe as well as he strode to stand in front of Dean. He used the camera remote to turn it on before setting it on the dresser.

"Who's first?" he asked eagerly.

"You," Dean said simply. He motioned for Frankie to turn around. Dean began by oiling up those beautiful shoulders before working down Frankie's broad back. He carefully worked the oil down each arm, enjoying the sheen it gave Frankie's skin. Before he would let Frankie turn around, Dean oiled up that hard ass and the back of his legs. Still kneeling, Dean moved around to oil up the front of Frankie's legs. He worked up, intentionally bypassing the groin, saving it for last. Frankie's hips and chest were fun, ending with the tops of his broad shoulders.

"Missed a spot," Frankie teased.

Dean shook his head. "Wanted to be sure I got my turn," he said, noticing moans and groans from the television. "I'll get to that later."

Frankie laughed at him as a big hand reached for the oil bottle. Oh, man, the oil felt even better with someone else rubbing it all over him, especially when he watched the two of them on television at the same time. Frankie followed his lead, starting with the back and then moving around to the front, conspicuously skipping the entire groin. When he finished, and Dean noticed they were both pretty worked up, Frankie pulled Dean's hand out palm up. He squirted oil in it.

"Same time?" he asked, heavy breathing filling the room. Dean glanced over to see them getting it on in the other motel in town, the reason they were banned from it. For life.

Dean grinned as he nodded. "Whatever you say, Master."

Frankie chuckled, rubbing the oil over both palms. He took a deep breath and nodded for Dean to begin as well. The slick oil gave the skin a healthy, almost unnatural sheen. Dean rubbed it slowly along Frankie's cock, feeling Frankie's large hand doing the same for him. They kept it up far longer than necessary to apply the oil.

"Are we going to do this until we come?" Frankie panted.

Dean forced his hands away, shaking his head and running his hands up Frankie's smooth hips. "Want the costumes again?" he asked. "Because I think it's time for a certain Roman senator to have his way with his gladiator-sex-slave."

Frankie grinned as he leaned in for a long, sensual kiss. "Works for me."

While Frankie moved the camera again, Dean climbed into his leather get-up. The toga-dress thing didn't take any time for Frankie to put on. Frankie frowned at Dean's outfit.

"What?" Dean demanded. "You picked this thing out."

Frankie shook his head. "I was just wondering how much it would cost to buy instead of rent." He reached a hand below the wide leather straps concealing Dean's sensitive parts from view. "I can't believe they made it like this."

Dean grinned, showing Frankie the panel that was supposed to go there. "It's removable. I'm guessing you're not the only one with a gladiator kink."

Frankie chuckled.

"So, how are you setting up this scene?" Dean asked. "What do I do?"

Frankie's fingertips trailed along the side of his face down his neck. "You're really being a great sport about all this. Thanks."

Dean laughed. "That's because there is going to be a payback." Frankie's eyes went wide. "Or," he relented, not really wanting Frankie to worry too much, "it's because you were so understanding about the Cassie thing." He grinned broadly, remembering. "And she was definitely participating, by the way."

"Finally got your three-way?" Frankie teased.

"Hell, it's the only way you'll let me have one," Dean replied.

"Better believe it," Frankie said in a gentle voice. "I'm not sharing you with anyone." Both hands rested on Dean's shoulders. "Remember when you told me I'd ruined you for life, that women couldn't measure up any more?"

Dean nodded. He had meant it, too. He had finally found his own personal sex god and was determined to keep it.

"Well, you've ruined me for life," Frankie told him. "Regular men couldn't possibly measure up to you."

Dean rolled his eyes until one of Frankie's hands forced him to look at those blue eyes.

"I mean it, Dean. If anything were to happen, to us." Frankie sighed, clearly uncomfortable talking about this. "I'd have to put out a want ad. SWM seeks SH."

"Just SH?" Dean teased. "Nothing more specific? SWH or SHH?"

Frankie shook his head. "People like you are too rare," he said, thumbs stroking along Dean's neck. "I'd have to take what I could get, and hope I liked whoever came along."

"Yeah, well, you're not single," Dean declared, hating how the mood had changed from light and fun to being so damned serious. "And you never will be again, if I can help it."

"Then stand your sexy ass over there, beside the bed," Frankie instructed. Dean walked to the spot indicated while Frankie crawled on to the bed. He propped himself up with pillows before turning on the camera.

Frankie gave him an imperial look before twitching his fingers, indicating for Dean to move closer. Dean stood right beside the bed, hoping for some serious fun. He wanted Frankie to make him come so hard they would wake up the neighbors, if they had any.

"Remove that," Frankie said, his eyes resting on the cross-piece on his chest. Dean took it off, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Frankie's eyes had a real glint, so Dean knew there would be more before they would get down and dirty.

"And that." His gaze dropped to Dean's stupid leather skirt. Oh, thank god. Dean unhooked it from the back and let it drop to the floor. His erection stood straight out, hard from the oiling they had given each other. He still wore the leather straps which wrapped over his shoulders and ran under his legs, framing his groin.

"Stroke yourself," Frankie ordered.

"What?" Dean asked. At the hard look from Frankie, he realized he had broken character. "Uh, I mean, what, Master?"

Frankie rolled on his side to watch. "Stroke yourself," he repeated in a husky voice. "I want to watch you come for me."

"Standing?" Dean asked. "Master, may I lie beside you? It'd be easier."

Frankie shook his head. "If you have trouble, I'll help," he promised.

Dean wasn't quite sure what Frankie was up to now, but he was convinced this was a recreation of one of those kinky damned dreams. Frankie was one of the original kinky bastards, Dean decided as he wrapped a hand around his own dick. He began by stroking slowly, wondering if he could make himself come with Frankie so close to him.

He noticed Frankie's breathing change as he stroked himself. The kinky bastard was definitely getting off on this. Dean tried stroking a little faster and squeezing tighter. Frankie breathed harder.

"Imagine thrusting inside me," Frankie said in his phone-sex voice. "In my tight hole."

Dean closed his eyes, thrusting into his own hand. Yeah, much better with Frankie talking him through it.

"It's so tight around you, you can barely pull out," Frankie went on and Dean squeezed so hard it began to hurt. "But that just makes you hornier and thrust harder."

Dean complied, shoving harder through his clenched fist, his own breathing heavier. He forgot about the camera and putting on a show, allowing Frankie's voice to work him up. Dean stroked faster and harder as Frankie egged him on, soft moans and grunts falling from his lips. When his orgasm struck, it hit with a surprising intensity, making Dean open his eyes. His gaze met Frankie's amazing blue eyes, locking as he pumped out his release.

"Good," Frankie praised in a heavy voice, almost panting. "Very good. Now undress me."

Dean required a few moments for his sexually-addled brain to process the order as he used both hands on the bed to hold himself up. Silently he nodded, lifting one hand to fumble with Frankie's stupid outfit. It had velcro holding it together along Frankie's side. After Dean yanked it free, it was easy to lay it open, revealing Frankie's gorgeous oiled body. Damn. Did he look better now than a few minutes ago when they were oiling each other up?

His hand automatically reached out to touch, to run across Frankie's chest and down to his sculpted thigh. Frankie's body shivered under his touch. Then Frankie removed his arm from the costume before returning to laying flat against the pillows.

"Again," Frankie breathed. Dean nodded as he stroked his hand along Frankie's body again, a second delicious shiver rewarding him.

"Master," he whispered. "How may I please you?"

Frankie's cock twitched in response to his question. "Climb on top of me," he said, his voice huskier and more strained. Dean doubted Frankie could last long. His cock was thick and red. He might even come before they could do anything.

Dean did as ordered, straddling Frankie's legs. He stuck a thumb under one of his leather straps. "Master?" he asked.

Frankie shook his head. "Leave it on." He grasped Dean's hips. "I want inside you."

Dean moved further up, taking Frankie inside him. He gasped as he sunk down on Frankie, his dick so wide and hard. Frankie's eyes closed and his fingers dug into Dean's hips, so he waited before moving.

"Slow," Frankie ordered after a moment as his eyes opened. "Slow enough to tease yourself."

Dean lifted nearly all the way up, until only the crown of Frankie's cock was still inside. Then he lowered himself slowly, taking Frankie all the way in. It was difficult to maintain the slow pace, but Dean complied with Frankie's request, moving so damn slow he broke out in a sweat from the effort of restraining himself.

"That's it," Frankie crooned, one hand trailing down Dean's slick and sweaty chest. "You're almost there, baby. Keep it slow."

Dean nodded, still pumping up and down at this unbelievably slow pace. His cock hardened as his orgasm neared. Frankie's hands gripped his ass, forcing him to maintain the pace. His orgasm started slow, rippling up from deep within, ending in Dean gasping as he sunk down on Frankie, a shake wracking his body as the orgasm intensified.

"Good," Frankie said and Dean opened his eyes. "You may go faster now, until I take over."

Dean nodded, increasing his thrusts as his insides pulsed with his pleasure. He closed his eyes and leaned down so he could smell Frankie's scent. Frankie's heavy musk, oil and sex filled his senses as he thrust on Frankie, his legs spread wide with one of Frankie's hands still gripping his ass so damn hard. Yet another orgasm threatened as he pumped down, causing Dean to move erratically. Then Frankie grabbed the leather straps, helping Dean to pump harder and Frankie to thrust up into him. Dean's insides pulsed hard and he slammed down, unable to quite reach completion. He growled in his frustration.

Frankie flipped them, snapping, "Stop."

Dean froze, opening his eyes to stare up. His brain had to work feverishly before he could remember the proper word. "Master," he breathed.

Frankie's dick twitched inside him, so Dean decided to try it again. "Master."

He felt the twitch inside again, harder this time. Yeah, he was going to have to remember this. Then Frankie reached back to pull Dean's leg over his hip. Grateful, Dean wrapped both legs around Frankie's waist, hoping to finally reach completion before he lost his frigging mind. Frankie thrust in and out, hips rolling erotically until Dean could hear those embarrassing noises and a thumping sound from someplace far away. His building orgasm finally exploded, squeezing Frankie's cock to the point he gasped and closed his eyes. Frankie thrust again and Dean knew they were coming together. Frankie ground against Dean's groin, helping him ride out wave after wave, his entire body shuddering with each wave. Then Frankie pulled away, removing his limp cock to lay down beside Dean. Dean continued to shudder and shake for a few moments while Frankie ran a hand along his chest. Then he felt Frankie's mouth on his cock. Oh, it was all too much! Dean shouted at the overload of pleasure as he received the best damn blowjob ever, coming the other way down Frankie's throat.

Frankie chuckled as he nuzzled Dean's neck. "How's that for a reward for Rome's most famous gladiator?"

"Damn," Dean breathed, still not opening his eyes. "I am so glad your sister can't walk in on us here."

Frankie chuckled again, nodding in agreement. He turned to face the television, where they could watch their own bodies tangled together, pleasuring each other.

"Frankie?" Dean asked after catching his breath.

"Yeah, Babe?" Frankie replied, sounding a little distracted because his eyes were glued to the sight of Frankie pounding into Dean and some really embarrassing sounds.

"We can watch what's on the camera, right?" Dean waited for Frankie to look at him. "On the television?"

Frankie's broad grin spread. "If you want."

Dean nodded, holding Frankie tight with one arm. "Later," he said. "I want to see the part where we're oiling each other up."

Frankie nodded against his chest. "We need to do that again until we come," he said. "Now that's some hot video."

"I have a feeling what we did was hot enough," Dean argued.

"Bet?" Frankie asked, looking up at him. "We can record it again, this time going until we're both coming. Then we watch them both and see which one is hotter."

Dean nodded. "Ten bucks."

Frankie grinned as he settled against Dean's shoulder again. "You're on."

"What time is it?" Dean demanded. "We should call to check on her highness."

Frankie shook his head. "It's still light out, Babe. We'll call in a little while. We've only been gone a couple of hours."

"We're going to need food at some point too," Dean pointed out.

Frankie held him tighter. "When you call to check on Liza, I'll order some room service. Okay?"

"Deal," Dean replied. "Now show me the other secret videos you've been making," he ordered, pointing at the screen.

Before raising the remote to choose another video clip of them, Frankie sucked at Dean's neck. "Yes, dear," that sweet deep voice mumbled into his skin. God, he loved having an anniversary to celebrate.


	60. Chapter 60

Don't get spoiled now. I'm still trying to make up for the long absence.

**Chapter 60**

Frank felt so warm and comfortable he didn't want to move. Yesterday afternoon and evening had been amazing. Every one of his favorite gladiator fantasies Dean had acted out with him, playing along to the point Frank had found himself hoping the morning alarm wouldn't go off and spoil his dream. Then he would realize it wasn't just a dream, that it was all real, and he could not believe how wonderful Dean truly was. Dean really was perfect for him, beyond perfect.

Now warm soft sheets, which he had brought from home and swapped out with the hotel sheets before deciding to call it a night, caressed his skin. Fully sated, he had curled up with Dean and probably mumbled some really embarrassing lovey-dovey things before dropping off. He felt the warmth of Dean's body pressed up against his side and Frank turned in to it.

Opening his eyes, he saw some light spilled into the otherwise dark room from the barely open bathroom door. Frank smiled at it, knowing Dean had done that on purpose. Ever since he had been abducted, Frank had had a few minor issues with dark rooms. According to the bedside clock it was only two in the morning, there was still plenty of time to sleep. Frank ran a hand down Dean's side as he snuggled in closer. He felt Dean shift back into him. Yeah, that was nice.

Frank allowed his eyes to close as he breathed in his spouse's rich scent. Mmmmm...this was the stuff of his dreams. He drifted off into an easy slumber.

Frank began to wake, but he didn't want to. His dream was so nice, Dean whispering sweet words while caressing his body. Frank was afraid if he opened his eyes it would stop.

"Come on, baby," Dean's voice filled his ears, deep and soft. "I wanna see those beautiful blue eyes."

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing green eyes burning with desire staring into his. Real?

"That's better," Dean crooned with a grin. "I don't want to do this with you asleep."

"This?" Frank asked, his heart skipping a beat. Was there anything they hadn't done? He was pretty sure his list had been completed.

Dean laid down on him, their faces so close their breath mingled. "This." Moist full lips pressed against his, practically devouring his mouth but in a slow, sensual way. God, yes. The skin on Dean's hands might be rough and callused, but those hands could touch his body with the gentlest of caresses. He had had his way since they arrived, it was high time for Dean to call the shots, especially when it made Frank feel like this.

With Dean's skilled hands and sensual kisses distracting him, Frank did not notice right away that his opening was being prodded. Assuming Dean wanted to stretch him, Frank lifted a leg to hook over Dean's hip. Dean paused, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment with a moan of appreciation. Then the kissing and touching resumed. Frank ran his hands as far over his spouse as he could reach, enjoying the feel of battle-hardened scarred skin as he smoothed over Dean's neck, shoulders, back, ass and upper thighs.

The prodding was slower than usual, but Frank figured it was on purpose, part of Dean's plan, so he simply enjoyed the attentions he was receiving. Then his hole was breached and he gasped. That was no finger.

"Okay, baby?" Dean whispered in his ear. "Too much?"

Frank shook his head, unable to speak at the moment. One hand grasping Dean's ass, he tugged gently, signaling he wanted more.

"All right." Dean's breath was hot against his cheek. "But I'll go slow."

Frank nodded. Sure he had been stretched numerous times since their arrival, so he ought to be loose enough, but he couldn't remember Dean ever doing it like this before. True to his word, Dean went slow. The well lubed cock penetrating him moved a little deeper with each shallow thrust. It felt like it was taking damn near forever before Dean was fully inside him. The whole time, those magnificent hands stroked him, hot searing touches which left tingling skin in their wake. When Dean wasn't kissing Frank, he stared into Frank's eyes with a clear longing and desire. Frank's mind was in a whirl, but he did not want it to stop. Ever.

Typically once Dean was fully sheathed within Frank, he waited a few moments until Frank nodded that it was okay to move. This time, however, the penetration had been so slow there was no need, Frank had automatically adjusted with each slightly deeper thrust. Dean shifted Frank's other leg over his hip as well, then laid down, pressing his full body weight against Frank's hard cock.

"So you do like this," Dean murmured, his thrusts picking up in speed and intensity. Frank nodded again, his hands grasping at Dean's back, wanting more. "Maybe I need to do this more often."

An involuntary gasp escaped at the thought. He snaked one hand down below his raised leg to grab Dean's upper thigh, right where it met that tight ass. Frank pulled hard as Dean thrust again.

"Okay, baby," Dean told him, with a gentle caress along his cheek. "Your turn."

He easily rolled them over so Frank could be on top. Straddling Dean and riding his hard shaft was just amazing. Frank usually insisted on lying on his stomach when he was 'bottoms', so he had never tried this before. As he pumped up and down, Frank allowed his eyes to close so he could concentrate on pure physical sensations. Good god, it all felt so damned good.

"Open your eyes, Frankie," Dean asked.

Frank looked down at his lover and partner and Dean smiled at him. "That's better," Dean said as his hands grasped Frank's hips. "Don't stop."

"Yes, dear," Frank replied with a grin. Dean chuckled at him as he increased his pace, but maintained eye contact. For some reason, Dean seemed to want eye contact tonight.

"Feels good, baby," Dean told him in a breathless voice. Frank only nodded in reply, his vocabulary once again taking a back seat to passion. Then one of Dean's hands grasped his stiff cock and began pumping him in time to his thrusts. Frank found he could pump down on Dean and thrust into the hot hand at the same time.

Frank gasped again as his orgasm hit, slow burning sensations through his body. Dean pumped him, his seed spilling all over his gorgeous spouse. Before he could finish, Dean surged up to flip them again, putting Dean back on top, his weight pressing down on Frank's abdomen. Their stomachs and chests were hot and slick with his come all over them.

"Yeah, baby," Dean murmured, "I like that."

Dean pumped harder into Frank, his head raised just enough to lock their gazes. His movements were strong, revealing how much muscle resided underneath all that golden skin. Frank was perfectly happy to let Dean do whatever he wanted. His dick was still half-hard, his orgasm incomplete. Frank wanted everything Dean had to give him. He clutched Dean's body to his, pulling his partner in deeper and harder until they both panted with the effort. Then Dean gave him another one of those sensual kisses which left his head spinning, and thrust extra hard. Frank's back bowed in an attempt to bring their groins tighter as his cock spurted with the last it had to offer and Dean came deep within him.

After lying on him for a few moments breathing hard, Dean lifted up to look him in the eye again. "Well?"

Frank ran his hands up and down Dean's arms, unable to verbally express how he felt, what it had meant to him.

Dean's serious expression broke into the mischievous grin. "Speechless, huh? Wow. Maybe I need to make love to you more often, huh?"

Using both hands, Frank pulled down Dean's head so he could kiss him fervently. Dean said it. He had actually said 'make love' instead of 'sex.' If earlier had been just sex, and this was making love, Frank would take the latter every damn time.

* * *

Dean woke up feeling like he had missed something. With a glance at the bedside digital clock, he realized it was way past Liza's breakfast, but he couldn't move. Frank had him pinned to the bed. And this wasn't their room. Oh, right. They were on their anniversary date and Lisa was watching the baby.

Relaxing at the thought of not needing to feed Liza, Dean allowed his body to sink back into the mattress. As much as he had been looking forward to this, Dean would be glad to be back home. He missed that little package of trouble with the bright eyes.

"Hey, big boy," Dean whispered with a grin. "Better get dressed before that good lookin' guy I saw you with comes back."

Frankie grunted as his arms wound tighter. "You should worry. Dean'll kill you."

Dean chuckled as he buried his fingers in the wild dark locks. "Ah, I bet you say that to all the guys."

There was a snort against his chest. "Better believe it," Frankie's smooth voice declared into his shoulder, "Pearland is small enough." The wild dark hair shifted as Frankie's head lifted. Brilliant, shocking blue eyes stared out of a clean cut, lightly stubbled, face with high cheek bones, a nose not too long and not too thin, stared at him. "Don't need you running off all the locals."

Both hands in Frank's hair, Dean tugged him a little closer. "What makes you think the locals are looking at you and not me?"

The big beaming grin was back as Frank shifted up. "What? And pass up this hot body? For a short guy?"

"Sh-short?" Dean sputtered, to Frank's obvious delight.

"Well duh," Frank said. "I'm taller than you are. Your dad is taller. Heck, even your baby brother towers over you. Face it, Dean. You're short."

Dean rolled his eyes. "How long have you been saving that one?"

Frank chuckled deeply as he leaned in to nuzzle at the side of Dean's neck. "Not long. Actually, your brother said it the other night when we were out back."

"Figures," Dean muttered. But he rolled his head to the side, allowing Frank to continue. "I'll take care of Sam later."

"I bet I can make you forget about it," Frank murmured near his ear.

"Twenty bucks," Dean challenged.

"You're on, babe."

* * *

John waited anxiously perched on the edge of the sofa for the sound of Serene's car pulling in to the drive. For something to do, John began vibrantly cursing his doctors and the stupid no-driving restriction he was still under. Unfortunately for him, both Dean and Sam had taken measures to be certain it stuck, including (though not restricted to) removing the starter from his truck. When he finally heard the car, he forced himself not to run out the front door. Instead John took his time, striding with purposeful slowness to open the front door.

"Hey, Dad!" Sam called across the yard with a wave. His long lanky frame bent into the back seat of the car. John chewed the inside of his cheek while his breathing sped up. When Sam stood up again, he held a sleepy baby girl in his arms. She yawned broadly and rested her head against her uncle's chest. Sam's long legs made the trip from the car to the house quick.

When his Little Lizzie saw him her face lit up and both hands reached for him. John returned the bright smile. "Did ya miss Granddad?" Sam passed her over as she laughed at getting her way. John rubbed his rough whiskers against her soft baby skin to make her bat him away. Then one chubby fist paid him back by grabbing his beard and pulling. Who knew such small hands could be so strong?

"I think you had that coming, Dad," Sam laughed at him.

"Yeah – ouch! - Just gimme a hand here, Sam. Ow!"

* * *

Serene waited by the car for Sam to come help haul the baby stuff inside. How could one kid, and a real little one at that, need so much crap? Had Dean packed every toy she owned in there?

As she leaned against the car listening to Sam chide his father, her thoughts drifted to their upcoming wedding. Sam didn't have much family but they were all coming, even the long-term family friends. Who was coming for her? No one. God, how pathetic. Even the person standing up for her was Sam's brother-in-law. She wasn't marrying Sam for his family. Was she? He had such a close bond with his brother, one she envied. Serene and her sister had never been close, not like that.

Her gaze rested on Sam, who was attempting to pry Liza's fist open to rescue his father's beard. She laughed at the sight, it was so comical. Serene realized that she was not the same person now she had been the last time she and her sister had spoken. Maybe it was time.

While Sam was distracted, Serene slipped her cell out of its holster. She scrolled through her phone list until she found her sister's number. At least, she hoped the number was still the same. Biting her lip, Serene called it and held the phone to her ear.

Liza's laughter drew her gaze. Sam was still trying to extricate John's whiskers from the child's grasp, which delighted Liza. New game. Oh, it looked like John was really going to have to watch it now! Serene couldn't wait to hear Sam telling Dean about this later. Between him and his father, the story would be far more interesting in the retelling than watching it happen.

"Hello?" a woman answered.

Serene's breath caught in her chest. "Gayle?"

"Speaking. Who is this?"

She swallowed hard before answering. "Serene."

There was a long moment of silence before she heard a deep sigh through the phone. "Let me guess, someone died."

"Uh, no." Serene's mouth was dry and swallowing was not helping. "Actually, I'm getting married."

"Congratulations," Gayle said in a sarcastic voice. "What do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to invite you. Look," Serene had to work to keep her voice even and not sound upset, "if this is a bad time, you can call me later." Her eyes were closed as she hoped, hoped, hoped that her sister would actually call.

"Yeah, right," Gayle snapped. "You're not trying to tell me that if I hang up, right now, you won't call and keep calling until I pick up?"

"I won't." Serene took a deep breath. "Go ahead. Try it."

"Fine."

Serene directed her gaze down at her cell. The call had been terminated. Damn it. Well, as Sam would say, the ball was in Gayle's court. She slid her cell back in the holster clipped to her belt. It was funny, but she didn't want to call Gayle continuously until her little sister answered. It might have been her fault that she had been too overbearing, a hold-over from taking care of her sister after their parents had been killed in a car wreck when she was seventeen. The fact Gayle was behaving like this after not speaking to each other for a year, though, that couldn't be her fault too. Serene had not started any of the old crap, there had been no reason for that reaction. This was Gayle's issue.

"Hey," Sam breathed softly. He stood right in front of her, one hand resting on her shoulder. "What is it?"

"I called her," Serene admitted.

Sam's face creased with concern. "It didn't go well?"

Serene took a deep breath and shook her head. "I swear, Sam, I didn't say anything wrong, but she hung up on me anyway."

He pulled her into a tight embrace. "You tried," he whispered into her ear. "Ball's in her court."

A relieved chuckle escaped from her. Sam pulled back to give her a quizzical look. "I knew you'd say that," Serene explained.

Sam gave her the sweetest smile. One hand teased through her hair. "Ready to go in, Sweetie?"

She jerked her head at the car. "Only if you're going to help bring in all this crap."

Now Sam laughed as he released her. "Yes, ma'am."

Serene slapped him in the shoulder before going around to the other side of the car. Hopefully between the two of them, it would only be one trip.


	61. Chapter 61

Once again, sorry for the wait. I know I told a few of you that there would only be a couple more chapters. Well, that's no longer the case. I feel pretty confident there will be at least 5 more at this point.

Chapter 61

Sam tapped his pencil absently against his desk as he stared at the far wall. The library was really quiet at this time of day. Oddly, there were regulars who actually waited for him to open the doors every morning, but they rarely needed his help. Sam usually used the early morning to reshelve books from the day before, but he was distracted. The wedding would be this weekend.

This weekend. Soon he would be married.

He tried to imagine what it would be like, if he would actually feel any different. Would wearing a ring be significant? Would he wear his ring? Dean did, but his brother had always worn stuff like that, like his amulet. Hey, was that another sign of Dean crossing gender borders?

His mind drifted, following strange tangents of thought, until the buzzing of his cell brought him back to reality. Maybe it was Serene wanting to know what time he would be coming by for lunch. He pulled out his cell without checking caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Oh...uh...is Serene there?"

"Serene?" Sam asked, confused. "No, she's at work. Would you like her number?"

"Um, I'm sorry, but I thought this was her number," the woman told him.

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear to study it. Oh, this was one metallic pink. It was Serene's. "Sorry," he replied when he pressed it to his ear again, "I guess we accidentally swapped phones. They look the same at five in the morning. Can I have her call you?"

"No," the woman snapped at him. "When would be a good time to call?"

Sam frowned at the far wall. This woman was weird. "Well, I should be able to return her phone at lunch, so how about after two? When the lunch rush is over?"

"Fine," she said. He checked the phone; the woman had hung up on him. Wow, what a bitch.

"Sam?" his supervisor Janet, the head librarian, walked up to the information desk. "Why don't you just take the rest of the week off? You're kind of worthless right now anyway."

Sam grinned at her. "Because I'm taking next week off for the honeymoon, you know that."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Think you can at least sort through the returned books before lunch? Make yourself useful?" With a grin Janet clucked her tongue at him. "It's a good thing you're Frank's brother-in-law, otherwise I would've fired you two days ago."

"You need a new line," he informed her as he pushed away from the desk. "That one's getting stale."

Janet laughed at him. "I'll work on it. Maybe when you're back from your honeymoon."

Sam found he was actually liking small town life. Everybody knowing everyone wasn't as bad as it had seemed at first.

* * *

Serene checked her call log curiously after Sam warned her about the strange phone call. She gasped at what she saw.

"What is it?" Sam asked, craning his neck for a better view of the tiny screen on her phone.

"My sister," she gasped. "My sister called? What did she say?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, she sounded kind of ticked off that I wasn't you, and then she said she would call later when you were available. Then she hung up on me."

Serene frowned at him. "Really? She hung up on you?"

Sam nodded and wondered why Serene even wanted this woman to call. "You're sure you want to talk to her? I'll carry your stupid pink phone as long as you like."

Her face lit with a bright smile. "Oh, Sammy. You're such a sweetheart!" He was rewarded with a quick kiss. "No, I'll talk to her. I wanted to invite her to the wedding, if that's all right?"

Sam shrugged. "Anything you want, Sweetie. You know that."

Even though he honestly did not want the bitchy woman from the phone there, it was so worth saying it to see the beaming smile on her face. This time he was rewarded with such a passionate kiss, everyone in the diner 'oooohhhh'-ed. Serene broke off with a red face, but Sam turned to bow to the diner's patrons, who applauded.

"Can you join me today?" Sam asked once the applause had died down. Her red face was cute. And sexy.

Serene gave a curt shake of her head before rushing through the kitchen doors. Sam chuckled as he sat at the counter to wait and see what she would bring out for him.

* * *

Frank parked in front of the county court building in downtown Carlin. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while staring at the building. Finally he screwed up his courage enough to open the car door. Frank stepped out into the heat of late morning and slammed the door shut. After several deep breaths, which did nothing to settle the trembling starting in his hands, he headed into the court house.

The D.A.'s office was on the second floor. Frank wasn't sure if he should knock or just go in. He opted for knocking and noticed his hand shaking. A confused young lady opened the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked. She had a pleasant smile and soft brown hair.

"I have an appointment?" Frank said. "Uh, Frank Warren?"

The young lady's smile widened. "You aren't sure?"

He chuckled self-consciously. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just, uh, nervous."

"Ben was just telling me to expect you," she told him as she pulled the door open. She pointed at a door set in the far wall. "Go on in. You're the only appointment for the rest of the day."

Frank swallowed hard over that. The only appointment? God, he hoped he would be able to leave early enough to make it home on time. Dean wasn't real lenient on him being late without calling. He still hadn't mentioned this little meeting, so Dean thought he was at work. Yeah, thin ice.

He pushed open the door to the inner office. A thin man wearing wire-rimmed glasses looked up.

"Mister Warren?" he asked hopefully as he stood.

"Frank," Frank said as he held out a hand.

"Then call me Ben," the man said, shaking his hand. "Thanks so much for coming all the way out here. I promise to make this as painless as possible. I'd just like to take the opportunity to go over your statement before we go to trial. I feel confident that with your testimony, Jake Jefferson will be spending the next twenty or so years behind bars."

Frank required another steadying breath. "I hope so," he said softly.

Ben motioned to the chair opposite his desk. "If you're ready? Do you need a minute?"

He stared at the chair a moment before taking a seat. He could do this. He would do this. If Frank was to be able to continue living his life, he had to take measures to make certain Jake would stay out of it.

* * *

Dean tried to block Liza as she reached for a brightly colored box in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. He chuckled at her efforts.

"Pap!" she shouted as she leaned out. "Pap!"

Dean frowned and studied the cereal in front of them. Liza reached again, for Frankie's favorite cereal.

"Pop?" he asked her, grinning. "Is that Pop's favorite?"

Liza laughed and clapped before reaching for the cereal again. Dean let her grab it this time and helped her add it to the shopping cart. He was only after a couple of things, but with Liza with him it was easier to use a cart even if he did find a few extra items after pushing it into the checkout.

"I'm going to call Pop," he told her. "He's going to love this."

Dean had been trying hard not to disturb Frankie with customers, so he called the office first. Karen answered. "Hi, Karen, it's Dean," he began.

"Hey, Dean. I'm glad you called. Do you think Frank will be feeling well enough to come in tomorrow?" she asked.

Dean froze in the aisle. "Huh?"

"Oh, is he that sick? A day or two or the rest of the week?" Karen pressed. "I'm trying to set the schedule."

"Frank called in sick?" Dean asked, astounded.

"Y-e-a-h," Karen replied slowly. "Are you out of town or something?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Dean stammered. "But I'm coming back today. When I know what's going on, I'll have him call you. Thanks."

Dean left his cart with the few items they had picked up in the aisle to rush out of the store. He called Frank's cell all the way out to the car. Three times it rolled over to voicemail. Next he tried Frank's mother. She thought Frank ought to be at work too. Panicked now, Dean called the cell phone company. While he buckled Liza in to her car seat, Dean told them he was Frank and had lost his phone, could they turn on the GPS and tell him where he had left it. It took a little wheedling, most cell phone providers won't do this kind of thing over just a lost phone, but he managed to get an address from them.

"Oh, right, I just left there a couple of hours ago," Dean lied. "Thanks so much, I'll go back right away."

Dean threw the car into reverse. "Hang on, Lizzie," he growled, "we have an errand to run."

* * *

Frank checked his watch. This was running much later than he thought it might. "I really need to head home soon."

"Just a few more minutes, Frank," Ben, the district attorney, insisted. "I'd hate to ask you to drive back out here for just a few little details when we can clear it all up today. Now, in your previous statement, which the defense has a copy of, you made a couple of contradictory statements."

Frank tried to wait patiently while the attorney flipped through the police report. Maybe he should call Dean to say he would be running a little late? Before Frank could reach for his phone, which was on the corner of the large oak desk, Ben tapped a page with his pen.

"Here it is. First you stated that you believed Jake Jefferson intended to kill you, which we've already gone over. Then you told this officer that you were not afraid for your life." Ben stared across the desk at him. "How could you not be afraid for your life if you believed he intended to kill you?"

Frank rubbed his palms, which were becoming sweaty, on his pants. "Because I didn't think he'd have time. I really ought to make a phone call now, before I'm in trouble with Dean."

"Dean?" Ben's head dove down again. "Why do I know that name? Oh, right. Isn't Dean the name of one of the men who found and rescued you?"

"Yeah." Frank found himself smiling despite the fact he knew he was due home in about ten minutes, but it was a half hour drive back. He picked up his phone off the corner of the desk, where it had been since he had arrived. Frank flipped it over to discover it was on silent.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, seeing the twenty missed calls.

"Hmm?" Ben looked up. "Oh, that. Yeah, I have a cell phone on silence policy when I'm in conference. I put it on silence for you when you used the restroom this morning. I did discuss that with you when you arrived, right?"

"No," Frank snapped as he anxiously scrolled through his missed call list. All except the one from his mother had been Dean. Holy crap, what was Dean thinking right now? The worst. Dean always thought the worst. Five voicemails. Frank's eyes widened as in addition to the voicemails, there were also a dozen text messages, all from Dean's phone in the last half hour. "I'm in deep shit," he muttered. Could he call now? His hands shook as he weighed his options. His odds of survival either way seemed pretty damned low. He should've been suspicious when his phone hadn't rung all day. Oh, this was seriously worse than being a couple of hours late on their anniversary.

"Frank?" Ben's voice intruded on his internal freak-out. "Are you all right?"

"No." Frank chewed his lower lip for a moment before pressing the button to call Dean. He met Ben's confused gaze as he listened to the first ring. "I'm in more trouble than..."

"Frank!" Dean's panicked voice blared out of his phone.

Frank winced. "Hey, Babe," he said slowly. "So, uh, what's up?"

"Where are you?" Dean's low growl was such a turn-on. If only he weren't in trouble!

"Uh, yeah. About that. Interesting story." Frank found he was breathing hard.

"Which office?" Dean demanded. "I'm on the ground floor."

"Ground floor?" Frank asked, his mind in a whirl. "Ground floor of what?"

"The frigging court house in Carlin!" Dean snapped at him. "You are here? Your damn phone is here."

In the background he heard a little voice calling out "Pap! Pap!"

"Second floor, office twenty-twelve," Frank replied slowly. His heart felt like it had stopped beating. Dean tracked him down. He checked his watch. Frank had left home about eight and a half hours ago. Now Dean had to have figured out he was "missing," checked around locally for him, and then somehow found a way to track him down. He wasn't sure whether to feel amazed and impressed, or really frigging scared.

"Stay there! We'll be right up!" Dean ordered. The connection went dead in his hand. Scared was starting to win.

"That was Dean?" Ben asked. Frank stared down at the phone in his hand and nodded silently. "He's here? Good. We might need to call him to the stand, too. As an eyewitness. I don't suppose his brother is here? What was his name?"

"Sam." Frank swallowed hard.

"That's right. Sam. The second eyewitness. I think I had some notes on him." The pages on his desk flipped back and forth furiously. "But what were you saying about the defendant not having time because of-"

"Frank!" Dean's voice bellowed in the outer office.

Frank gave the DA a weak smile. "That's Dean." He turned to face the door. And his doom. "In here!"

The office door opened quickly and Dean strode in, a very animated Liza clinging to him. "Pap!" she screamed, holding her arms out for him.

"Did she just call me Pop?" Frank asked, amazed.

Dean handed her over, his eyes intense. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

Frank felt a little safer hiding behind the baby. "Dean, this is Ben Reynolds, the county district attorney. He's prosecuting the bastard."

Dean's eyes flicked over the thin man sitting behind the desk. Ben smiled broadly as he stood and held out a hand. "Dean? Great to meet you. I had planned on asking Frank if he thought you might be willing to meet with me. We might need an eyewitness on the stand, to verify what Frank testifies to."

"Testify?" Dean's face dropped the stern, worried look in favor of a shock. "You want Frank to testify? In person?"

"Uh, Ben?" Frank turned to look at the district attorney. "Would you mind if we had a few minutes? Alone?"

"Oh, sure." Ben shrugged as he stood. "I need to give Claire my notes to type up anyway." He held up his legal pad. "But I really would like to speak with Dean before you leave. We might need him to testify as well."

There was a strained silence as Ben left the room. Frank shifted his attention guiltily to Dean, who was staring at him.

"You couldn't tell me where you were going?" Dean asked in a stiff voice.

Frank chewed the edge of his tongue as he tried to figure out how he could explain it. Liza patted his chest. Grateful for the distraction, he looked down at her.

"Bad," she said quite clearly. Frank hoped she was not talking about him, but honestly he knew better. "Pap bad."

Frank looked her in the eyes. "I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I won't be bad any more."

"Promise?" Dean asked heavily from where he stood, a few steps away.

Frank lifted his head to lock with those worried eyes and nodded. "Promise. And I'll try to explain later." He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "At least, I hope I can explain it."

Dean let out a long sigh and shook his head at Frank. "So do I."

"Pap bad," Liza piped up again, slapping an open hand against his chest.

"But I love you," Frank replied as he lifted her into a hug, but he was looking at Dean. "More than anything."

"We'll talk later," Dean said brusquely, turning towards the door. "I'll let the attorney back in so we can get the hell out of here."

Frank managed to ease them both out of the DA's office rather quickly with excuses about needing to take care of the baby. He followed Dean and Liza home in his car, slightly surprised it wasn't the other way around so Dean could keep an eye on him. Dean barely looked at him for the rest of the evening.

"You know," John broke the tense silence, "I was thinking of walking Liza down to the little park to play before bed. Would that be all right?"

"Pay!" Liza squealed, clapping her hands and eyes shining. "Pay da-ee!!"

"Grand-da-ee," John corrected her with a grin.

"Well, I guess we can't say no now, can we?" Dean replied with a shrug. "It's almost dark, Dad. Don't stay out too long."

"Yes, Nurse Ratchet," John snapped back as he stood up. Then he winced and cast a guilty look at Dean. Dean shrugged again and motioned to Liza who sat in the middle of the den holding her arms up for John. "We won't be too long," he mumbled before beating a hasty retreat out the door with Liza.

"Bad day?" Frank asked thinking only about John's reaction, until he felt the hard slug to his shoulder. He turned to face Dean's glower as he rubbed the throbbing flesh. "Sorry. Guess that was a stupid question."

"You're damn right it was," Dean said slowly. "I think you promised to explain?"

Frank chewed on his lower lip. The whole drive back and throughout their almost silent dinner he had tried to put it into words, but he kept coming up short. Nothing sounded right.

"I'm not sure I can," he replied with a frustrated sigh. "It's..." Frank swallowed hard as he shook his head, disgusted with the kind of man he had turned into. "Damn it, Dean! I'm nearly thirty-two years old. You know that, right?" he demanded.

Dean's eyes widened and he nodded once.

With a wide sweeping motion, Frank gestured to their room. "I have to sleep with a god-damned nightlight!" He drew in a deep breath as his level of frustration rose. "Do you know what that's like?"

Dean glanced at their bedroom door with a shrug. "Well, I do too."

"It's not the same!" Frank snapped. He knew he shouldn't be shouting at Dean, the one person in his life he honestly and literally trusted with his life. "You can sleep with it or not. I can't." He jabbed at his chest with his thumb. "Every time I can't see what's around me, I think of him." Jesus, he couldn't even say the bastard's name!

"Hey, hey..." Dean said in a gentle voice as he approached. "Frankie, it's all right. I just wanted to know why you couldn't tell me where you were going."

"Because... Because I wanted to do it by myself. I mean, I wanted to see IF I could do it, drive all the way over there and tell some complete stranger what happened, all alone." Now he dared to look Dean in the eye. "I knew if I told you about it, you'd offer to come with me. I wouldn't have been able to say no."

Dean's brow furrowed. "But Baby, if you'd wanted to go alone, I would've just stayed home. No problem." He stepped a little closer but did not reach out to touch. "What's the big deal?"

Frank found himself breathing harder. "I never would've asked you to stay home," he whispered. "I feel safe when you're around."

"Okay, you're not making any sense. Come on." Dean's strong hands directed him to the couch and made him sit. Then Dean's familiar weight landed right beside him, their legs pressed close together. The pressure of an arm over his shoulders was warm and comforting. "Easy there, Frankie. Nice deep breaths."

Relieved by the level of care despite his stupid stunt, Frank leaned over to press his cheek against Dean's chest. Next thing he knew, they were lying together on the couch, Frank with his head on Dean's shoulder and his hair being rhythmically stroked.

"Better?" Dean's deep voice rumbled in his ear. Frank nodded, realizing it was easier to breathe now and he was feeling more relaxed and...safe. "Okay. Try it again. Slow. No shouting."

Frank swallowed hard, his mouth horribly dry. He decided to explain it backwards. "Any time you offer to go someplace with me, anywhere, I'll always say yes. Because I know I'm safe when you're around."

The strong fingers stroking through his hair kept up their steady pace. "Mmm-hmmm," was Dean's only response, so Frank figured he needed to explain a little more.

"I knew if I told you about it, you'd offer to go, but I needed to see if I could do it by myself. I mean, I can't sleep without a night-light, Dean! I feel like I'm not..." his voice trailed off, betraying the fact this was what he didn't want to give voice to.

The stroking of his hair stopped. One of Dean's hands pushed his chin up, until he was peering into Dean's worried eyes. "You feel like you're not what?"

Frank tore his eyes away to tighten his hold on Dean, his anchor, his personal savior. He squeezed his eyes closed as he mumbled the dreaded admission.

"Not a man." Geez, it actually sounded even worse and more corny out loud.

He felt Dean's chest shake. Concerned, Frank forced his eyes to open and his head to look up. There was a broad, amused smile on Dean's face and he could hear the chuckling now. "What?" he demanded. Was Dean actually laughing at his predicament?

"Not a man?" Dean asked with a sparkle in his eye. "Dude, how many guys can wear baby blue and still look like a stud? Or have super-sperm which can get me pregnant even on hormones?" Both of Dean's hands were buried in his hair now, keeping him focused. "Who calls who baby in this relationship?"

The smile dropped from Dean's face, replaced with a concerned look. "Your mother has been on my case to talk you into seeing a therapist. I didn't think you needed it, but maybe I was wrong." He sighed a little. "You scared the crap out of me today, Frank. If you ever do that again, I will beat the ever-living shit out of you."

Frank nodded, his movements restricted by Dean's grip on his head. "Yes, dear," he whispered.

Dean's hands released their grip and encouraged him to rest his head on that comforting chest again. Soothing strokes through his hair assured him he was not in quite as much trouble as he had assumed.

"When the trial starts, I'm going to be there," Dean announced in the soft, firm voice Frank knew not to disagree with. Frank nodded, holding his spouse tight and feeling warm relief spread from the inside out. Maybe he wasn't in trouble after all.


End file.
